


The Treasure Above All

by Arnir_Ryxx



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Background Relationships, Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, Depression, Distrust to Friends to Lovers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Everybody Lives, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Beta Read, Nothing brutal though, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Shapeshifting, Slow Burn, Smut, Suicidal Thoughts, Thorin Is an Idiot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2019-07-29 12:54:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 89,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16264634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arnir_Ryxx/pseuds/Arnir_Ryxx
Summary: Two lost souls circling around eachother, both haunted by their past, both lonely, both holding it all in, hiding their feelings behind a solid outer exterior.Or, how Thorin learns to trust, and Daenar finds what he didn't know he was missing.





	1. The Meeting

Hello, everyone. I'd advise you all to thoroughly read this message first, as there are many warnings and things I'd like you to know before diving into the story.  
Firstly, if you're expecting a grammar masterpiece, you can stop reading right here. At the time of writing this, I'm a 20yo student, non-native speaker, and my English is not at such high level yet. I also do not claim to be an exceptionally good writer.  
Secondly, please be warned that I'm no Tolkien expert, either. It will be slightly canon-divergent, as should be obvious from the tags. I started writing this for my own amusement, and now decided to post it here, mostly to get some feedback - don't hesitate to leave some critique for me in the comments, I appreciate your thoughts!  
My third and last warning would be, there probably will be violence, harsh words and smut (later on) in this story. You have been warned!  
With all of that out of the way, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I do/did writing it!

 

* * *

 

 

╭╼|══════════|╾╮  
  
**Chapter 1**  
**The Meeting**

╰╼|══════════|╾╯

 

Two times. Thorin got lost two times while on his quest of finding this blasted hobbit house in The Shire, the wizard providing very unclear coordinations. First, he took a wrong turn on a crossroad, and had to ask random passersby for a way to this village, then they were watching him warily as he was walking around the Shire, lost, trying to find a door with a symbol Gandalf said would be there. At last, though, he found himself in front of the house, Bag End - judging so also by the booming voices coming from within. He pounded on the door three times in a quick succession, his irritation quite clear in the strength he put into the thumps. Although the night was rather warm, Thorin couldn't wait to get inside and away from the inquisitive and prudent looks the locals were welcoming him with from behind their window curtains. He knew that so many dwarrows suddenly appearing on Bag End's doorstep had to cause quite a commotion, and Mahal knows that the other dwarrows surely had made their arrival known. Which was why Thorin couldn't wait to get out of this damned land. It didn't help that everything in the Shire seemed to be too peaceful and the countryside was like tailored for the needs of its inhabitants - hobbits, such gentle, soft little creatures and yet they managed to unnerve him to a great extent.

An angry mumbling and shuffling of feet could be heard from the inside, before a barefoot hobbit with sandy hair opened, looking quite irritated and out of breath.  
  
As soon as he did so, all laughter and chatter died out, and a dead silence replaced it. The hobbit blinked at him once, twice, as if sensing he was someone important, then stepped aside, nodding to the side uncertainly. "W-Welcome," he piped. "Please, leave your weapons here." Thorin nodded, and put his sword where the man pointed. The hobbit looked spooked enough already, and he couldn't quite blame him, dwarrows were a pretty rowdy sort. "M-may I ask your name, please? And how many of you are still coming?"

Thorin frowned, not knowing whether he wanted the hobbit to know such information. However, Gandalf chose that moment to step out of what he guessed was the kitchen, smiling broadly. "Thorin Oakenshield, fashionably late again."

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth too at seeing the wizard. It has been some time. "Gandalf the Grey."

Gandalf turned to the hobbit then, motioning for Thorin to come to the room behind him in the meantime. "Bilbo, this one is the last of the dwarves, I assure you. Now come join us at the table, your presence is required as well. You've been running around enough already."

The hobbit, Bilbo, shot the wizard an angry look and muttered something under his breath, then reluctantly joined them as they sat at the table, looking devastated. At least, Thorin mused, he wasn't the only annoyed person in the house. However, unlike the hobbit, Thorin slowly felt his anger dissipate under the chatter of the gathered company. It looked like the other dwarves raided the hobbit's larder and rid him of all his stored food, not truly realising what they've actually done. Thorin felt like he should apologize to him for his companions' manners, but there were more important matters to attend to.

They conversed for some time, planning every bit of the adventure that awaited them and going over every possible obstacle they could meet on their way to Erebor. It was at the end of the meeting that the hobbit asked the question that was gnawing at Thorin ever since the beginning. "That's all very nice and all, Gandalf, but I don't quite get where I fit into all of that."

Gandalf's smug smile made Thorin uneasy again, especially after the man's eyes turned to his. "In order to get through Smaug, you need a thief. Someone who can steal the Arkenstone from under the dragon's nose, undetected." The man left his speech there, waiting for others to realize what he was implying. Which didn't take very long.

It was Thorin who spoke first. "And you think that this hobbit is capable of doing so." His tone was monotone, unbelieving.

The hobbit, it seemed, shared his skepticism. "I-I'm not sure about that, Gandalf.."

The wizard apparently expected such response. He and the hobbit started a light argument with each other, then Gandalf decided to take it to another room, excusing themselves. All the while, Thorin watched on with hawk eyes, not saying anything until the two of them disappeared. "I don't like this," said Dwalin right as they rounded the corner, voicing Thorin's thoughts. "Hobbits are a soft sort, they aren't made fer adventures. They like their quiet, borin' life n' the comfort of their own house. He won't even survive the journey long enough t' get ta Erebor."

The other dwarves hummed their approval, only Balin shaking his head. "I wouldn't write him out so quickly. Gandalf chose him for a reason, and I would advise you all not to underestimate the will of the Istari."

Despite Balin's comment, Thorin still wasn't convinced. "Gandalf may be Istari, but Dwalin is right. The hobbit surely doesn't even know how to fight, I doubt he ever held a sword. This journey would be the death of him, and I do not want to be held responsible for his demise. This is a dwarves-only mission, I would rather no other races interjected - we will get back Erebor with or without him."

Balin knew there was no arguing with the thick head of his, so he only shook his head in disapproval, and changed the topic of the conversation again. A few minutes later, Gandalf got back, a broad smile on his face signalling he was successful in persuading Bilbo, who trotted after him. The contract for the hobbit has been signed, and after Balin checked it over once again, the advisor smiled and shook Bilbo's hand. "Welcome aboard, Mr. Baggins."

Thorin growled in frustration.

 

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬

 

It has already been nearly a week that Daenar was on the way, and now, finally, he caught the scent of a group of dwarves, mixed with one or two other scents he couldn't quite place. It had to be them. Gandalf sent him a message asking for help almost two weeks ago, which meant they departed from The Shire about a week prior to this day. However, it took him some time to consider the request, which resulted in him now running late. No matter, he was at least five times faster than their horses could be, in his wolf form, and catching up to them was no problem. Being a shapeshifter certainly helped in these kinds of situations.

With that, he quickened the pace again, up to a sprint, and rushed towards his pursuit. Sure enough, as he was nearing the scent, Daenar slowly started to discern voices amidst the ruffling of trees from above and the hoot of a prowling owl somewhere to his left. When he found himself in a range close enough to be able to listen in on an ongoing conversation between two people, one of which he was pretty sure was Gandalf, Daenar slowed to a walk and strained his ears. "-many people are you planning to invite, wizard?!", came an unknown voice, carrying a pretty furious tone.

Gandalf sounded offended - which was probably well-founded, given the way the other person addressed him. "You know very well you need all the hands you can get, Thorin! You should not refuse help where it is offered!" Not often has he heard the Istari to be so angry. Was he arguing with that 'Thorin'?

"We will not accept another to our company, that is final. Bilbo!" Another voice piped a surprised 'yes?', before the so-called 'Thorin' continued, probably only then noticing the harshness in his voice, and smoothing it with the next words. Although, he still managed to sound pretty threatening. "Bring food to Kíli and Fíli, and tell those two idiots not to stray too far from the camp before they needlessly get into trouble again."

"You're a fool, Thorin Oakenshield!", boomed the wizard again, obviously infuriated about being ignored.

"W-where are you going, Gandalf?", said the third voice.

"To seek the company of the only person who makes sense around here!"

"W-who do you mean?"

"Me!"

By that time, Daenar could see the end of the path that lead to a small clearing the company probably decided to make a camp in, although he couldn't see much as it was more uphill. However, he could hear Gandalf approaching on his horse, so Daenar stepped out from the forest, onto the path, waiting for the wizard to show himself. A big black wolf triple the size of a normal one tended to spook people, normally, but Gandalf already knew him, and he was sure the wizard would recognize him instantly.

Just as he predicted, the old man emerged from up the path, muttering silent curses under his breath which Daenar was able to decipher but chose to ignore. It took a moment for Gandalf to notice him, as he was deep in his dark thoughts, but when he did, the wizard's expression brightened significantly before he jumped down from his horse. "Daenar!" He couldn't speak in wolf form, so he just stood and waited for the other to approach. "It's good you made it. How have you been, my boy?" Daenar let him come closer, then nodded towards where Gandalf came from, silently asking for any sort of explanation for the argument Gandalf knew he overheard. "Ah, yes, there are... smaller complications with your joining. Do not worry, Thorin will come to his senses sooner or later."

Although the wizard tried to bring some cheerfulness into the tone of his voice, it didn't go unnoticed by Daenar that there was a heavy hint of uncertainty in it, as well. Furthermore, he spent enough time in the wizard's company to decipher his expressions, small frowns and wrinkles which wouldn't mean anything to anyone else, but were a clear sign to him that there was something more than wrong going on.

That, and also just the exchange between the two, which he overheard, gave him a pretty clear picture.

A strangled shout suddenly pierced the air, coming from inside the dense forest behind Gandalf. The wizard seemed not to have heard it, if his resumed angry mumbling was anything to go by. However, he realized something was wrong upon seeing Daenar tense, golden eyes staring intently into the slowly growing darkness of the forest and ears strained in hopes of catching another sound again. A moment has gone by, before he caught a battle cry coming from the same direction, which was enough for him to be able to tell there's something going on.

He didn't give the wizard any warning before springing in the general direction of the sounds, nor did he wait for him to catch up. The forest was filled with thick bushes and other natural obstacles, slowing him down, but he was able to jump over most of them.

It didn't take long for him to catch a scent of most of the dwarves. It was mixed with some other smell, which he couldn't quite place. Wait, was that... troll's? No, more than just one troll. He looked up through the treetops. The sun already set, that was no good. Daylight won't help them. Daenar released an irritated growl - how the dwarves managed to find trolls right at the start of the night, and, more importantly, why they decided to attack them, was beyond him.

He didn't have much more time to dwell on that thought, though, as a light from a campfire caught his attention, and he could see figures dancing around it with swords, occasionally blocking the light. Just then, one of the smaller figures dropped to the ground, a troll immediately raising a fist to smash it.

Daenar knew, he had no time to waste. As soon as he was close enough, he leant back on his legs, then leapt at the troll, whose eyes widened upon catching a sight of him. It was too late, though, as in the next moment, Daenar's teeth tore deep through his flesh in the raised arm, and with a yank and a crack, the arm went limp. The troll released an agonized scream and reached to his now bleeding limb, making the mistake of taking its eyes off the big wolf, who used this to his advantage, and immediately went for the troll's neck. His enemy's screams were cut short the moment the life left them, then the lifeless body dropped to the ground. Every eye was now on the big wolf and the dead troll.

"It killed Tom!", shouted one of the remaining two trolls.

Paying no mind to the troll's cry, Daenar looked down at the dwarf lying on the ground, who was watching him with eyes wide from shock. The sound of iron slashing through the air was the only warning he got before having to dodge a strike from one of the other dwarves. _Fools_ , was his first thought. _Can't they see I'm on their side?_

Furthermore, they still had two more trolls to take care of. Or not, seeing as one of them was already lying on the ground, half dead, and the other was due for joining him. A few of the dwarves changed focus to him, and Daenar had no other option than to slowly back away.

"Focus on the wolf!", said one of them. Based on the sound of his voice, Daenar guessed he had to be Thorin, the dwarf Gandalf talked with before. Or, more like argued. "He's the next biggest threat!"

"He's no threat to you, fools!" Gandalf stepped from out of the bushes behind Daenar, glaring daggers at Thorin. All of the dwarves tensed as the wizard came to a halt next to him, petting him twice on the side in a silent message not to worry, that he would take care of the situation. "He saved Kíli's life, after all. You wouldn't recognize a help even if it hit you to the face, Thorin!"

"What is the meaning of this," growled Thorin, sheathing back his sword.

Gandalf knew the dwarf king couldn't deny him after this anymore, a smug grin replacing his anger. "May I present you Dae-" Daenar's growl of warning silenced him. The wizard was wise, but sometimes, his mouth was running faster than his brain and he forgot Daenar didn't wish for anyone to know his real name. Sure, it has been quite some time since the tragedy that turned his life upside down, but there was still a small risk that a rumor has been spread, and if anybody recognized the name, it without a doubt could end very badly. Call him paranoid, but he thought it safer to use a different name. Gandalf caught himself quickly and corrected his mistake. "-Garrett. He is the help I told you about earlier."

Thorin frowned. "A wolf?" The word was spat out like acid, although his expression quickly turned into that of wonder. "No, it is too big for a regular wolf." It seemed the man was surprised and angry about Daenar's presence at the same time. Great, leave it to Gandalf to not inform them about him in advance. It seemed all of the dwarves were studying him suspiciously; Daenar hated these kinds of situations. He hated being in the spotlights, or between people in general - being it in human or animal form. "Why do you want a beast to accompany us, Gandalf," came Thorin's voice once more, all the anger present yet again.

"You won't talk about him that way! He is not a simple beast, and if you think he can't understand what you're saying, you're sorely mistaken!"

To that, the dwarf's brows furrowed even further. "What is... he, then."

He felt Gandalf tense next to him, hesitating. "I believe that part would be left for him to tell, as I'm not entirely sure how much he wants to share with you."

"It can speak? You're keeping too much from us, Gandalf, I don't like it! Let it prove that fact, then!"

It was Daenar's turn to get nervous. He wasn't ready to show up in a human form in front of them just yet. "He is on your side, and that is all you need to know for now," said Gandalf. When Thorin didn't say a word, glaring at the wolf in front of him, he continued. "He proved useful, did he not?"

That gave Daenar a stop. It wasn't the sentence itself, but the way it was said, that surprised him. Never had he heard Gandalf beg someone, and it made his blood boil. He could take the hint, it was quite obvious he wasn't wanted. They could bad-mouth Daenar all they wanted, but they had no right to distrust the wizard, to the point that the man had to beg! So, the decision was quite easy. He turned around, ready to finally get away, having no desire to help where it was being rejected, even when there still was a debt to pay to the wizard. There were many other ways to repay Gandalf's kindness, though.

Just as he was about to finally get away from the disaster of the situation, another voice joined in on the conversation. "Uncle, I-I think Gandalf is right." Looking behind himself, he realized it was the dwarf whose life he saved, who probably just then got out of his shock. "I don't think the wolf means any harm, and I wholeheartedly trust Gandalf."

His words, it seemed, appeased Thorin, although just slightly. It was enough for him to calm his voice, while walking up to the younger dwarf with concern in his eyes, as if he just realised what almost could've happened to him. "Kíli-"

But Kíli continued. "I was too careless, and the troll knocked me to the ground. If it wasn't for him," he pointed at Garrett, eyes still fixed on Thorin. "The troll would have killed me. Please, uncle, you didn't even give him a chance."

It looked like growling and glaring were the only things Thorin could do, at least to Daenar, as the dwarf did just that, directing it all at him. Daenar didn't even flinch, just turned back around and returned the stare. In the end, it was him who was the winner of the staring contest, as the thick-headed dwarf sighed and averted his eyes. "Fine, but I'll keep an eye on it," he spat, then turned back to Kíli, eyes again softening as he started to fuss over his condition.

It took every ounce of Daenar's will not to roll his eyes - as much as a wolf can. The dwarf just had to have the last word, keeping an aura of authority. He knew that it was the best approval he could get at the moment, so with that, Daenar turned back around, disappearing in the forest.

For the lack of knowing what to do, he went hunting for game, hoping to find something they could eat. Luck was on his side, and not even quarter an hour later, he was walking back towards the camp with an adult doe in his mouth. He returned just in time to catch the dwarves gathered in a circle, inspecting some weapons they, according to what he overheard, found in a cave near where the trolls' camp was.

Not wanting to disturb, he put the dead animal by the already burning bonfire, which however caught the attention of some of the dwarves. In an instant, he could feel Thorin's icy glare piercing him. That dwarf was insufferable, did he have to be so incredulous? No matter, Daenar decided he needed some peace and quiet for a while again. He normally wasn't around people much, and those kinds of things had to be taken in small doses to get used to - somehow, this journey suddenly seemed like a nightmare. Without so much as a glance behind himself, Daenar walked towards the forest again, fully intent on spending the rest of the night with nobody but himself.

However, some people had different plans. He almost groaned when he heard the telltale rustling of leaves just after stepping under the trees, followed by a pleading 'wait!' soon. Turning around, he found himself face to face with the dwarf he rescued earlier, followed closely by another one with blond hair but the same cheeky smile. What came as a surprise, though, was when they both bowed. "I haven't had the chance to properly thank you, yet," said the one he already knew as Kíli.

"Garrett, if I remember correctly?" At Daenar's nod, the blond's eyes grew twice their size with excitement. He nudged Kíli excitedly, who, Daenar noticed, shared the same level of enthusiasm. "Wow, so you can really understand everything we say!" When Daenar growled, a little irritated they didn't believe Gandalf when the wizard told them so, the blond quickly continued. "A-anyway, I would like to thank you for rescuing my brother, I'm Fíli," said the dwarf while bowing yet again.

"And I'm Kíli," the dark-haired dwarf piped in while mimicking his brother.

"At your service!", said both of them in unison, straightening back up.

It was all Daenar could do to not laugh at how incredibly coordinated those two were. Luckily, he managed to hold it in - wolf's laugh is nothing very graceful to hear. Instead, he bowed in return, bending one leg to make it look more elegant. That seemed to make the brothers even more baffled. "Brother, he even knows proper customs!" Fíli sounded so mesmerized.

The other wasn't much better. "I'd dare say he's more polite than even our uncle! And he's a king! Well, soon-to-be-king."

Wait, wait, hold on a second. King? Their uncle? Did they mean that Thorin was a king? And - oh, god, were these two his heirs? Well, assuming Thorin didn't have children...

He didn't get to dwell too much on it, as in the next moment, Kíli asked the most shocking question of the day yet. "Do you think I can... pet you, Garrett?" For a moment, they all just stood there, looking at each other, the two dwarves' eyes full of hope - as if they didn't know just what they were asking for. It was meant as a breakpoint, when a wolf let you caress his fur, or even so much as touch him. A sign that the wolf truly trusted you; that he took you as a friend. The two dwarves surely didn't know about the importance of the situation, though - if their huge puppy eyes were anything to go by. Sure, Daenar wasn't just a wolf - aside from being triple a normal wolf's size, he was also a human, but they didn't know that yet.

The dwarves, however, looked near the point of bursting if they continued to pout any further. And... it wouldn't hurt to let them, he guessed... With a heavy sigh, Daenar lied down on his belly, front paws stretched forwards, nodded, and laid his head on the front legs. The two princes assaulted him immediately, each on one side, caressing the soft fur and murmuring some words in Khuzdul. He had to give it to them, the feeling was quite pleasant. More than pleasant, in fact. He found himself giving in to their rubs, huffing pleasedly, even wagging his tail. Aside from one time when he growled at Kíli when the dwarf was slowly reaching his tail (tail was a very strict no-no zone for wolves - it was like touching a human's butt), he let them do their thing, liking when they scratched him behind his ears or under his chin the most. The feeling other person's hands could make was almost foreign to him already, he forgot how good it could feel, having not received such caress in many years.

The moment was so peaceful, he didn't notice another person's presence, until Gandalf cleared his throat. Daenar whipped his head up so fast he almost hit the two princes in their chins, then made to stand up, but stopped at the wizard's raised hand. "I'm pleased to see you're making friends, Garrett. You need not worry, I won't tell a soul." Then he winked, and Daenar felt the tension slip away, relaxing yet again. "I was wondering where you two disappeared to, Kíli, Fíli. Thorin is worried. Also, Bofur said supper will be ready in a moment."

The supper, it turned out, was venison stew with some herbs - they put some meat aside for him, and he was happy to see it has been cooked as well - his stomach could, of course, handle raw meat, but it was infinitely better if processed on fire. The rest of the doe has been skinned and the meat put aside for the upcoming days. The dwarves thanked him for the catch - mainly Bombur, who looked like he could empty all their supplies if he wasn't being held back by his brother Bofur and cousin Bifur, because, citing his words, 'he didn't have such delicious meal in ages.'

Of course, Thorin kept on glaring at him the whole night, especially when Kíli and Fíli sat down on both his sides, talking to him animatedly. He didn't let the dwarf get under his skin, king or not. The very one-sided conversation with the two brothers, with him only either nodding or shaking his head, was actually quite entertaining. Plus, at least he was slowly but surely winning the trust of the whole group, if the already not-that-suspicious glances, more loaded with curiousness now, were anything to go by. Of course, he still rather opted to lay further away from the rest of them at night, at least so the stubborn leader wouldn't burst a vessel. Sleep came to him rather quickly that night, as the exhaustion of his own previous traveling finally got to him.

 


	2. Burst The Bubble

╭╼|══════════|╾╮

 **Chapter 2  
** **Burst The Bubble**

╰╼|══════════|╾╯

 

Thorin was only half-listening to Dwalin, finding his attention always slipping back into studying the newest addition to their company. It has only been a week since the animal's joining, but somehow, everybody already seemed to be on friendly terms with it, even talked to it for some reason. The wolf's only form of communication was truly nothing but a nod or a shake of its head, but that didn't come as a surprise - after all, it's not like an animal could talk, even if Gandalf seemed to imply that this one could. The old man was probably going crazy already, just the picture of him having a conversation with animals was enough to steel Thorin's opinion on the matter.  
  
His nephews were definitely the ones who warmed up to the wolf - Garrett it was named - the most. The animal scouted ahead most of the day, only occasionally waiting for them, and even at night, it more often than not was gone, hunting for game or doing other things he didn't particularly care about knowing. However, every chance they could, Kíli and Fíli would jump around the wolf with unconcealed joy, like children who found a new pet. The other dwarves got over their initial wariness too, the curiosity inside them winning over. Strangely enough, even Dwalin admitted he felt somewhat safer with the wolf being amongst their group, although he refused to so much as get close to it. Still, it was quite a surprise to hear that from the dwarf, and even if Thorin was in denial at first, at the end, he had to admit he felt the same way, too. All suspicions aside, the animal has been nothing but helpful for them so far, there was no denying that.  
  
Still, you would excuse him if he remained wary of this new member. A hobbit was one thing, but an overgrown, intelligent, even polite wolf who understood Common perfectly? Who could blame him for being on alert? The animal was a mystery, one that he wouldn't rest until it's solved.  
  
In an unguarded moment, the wolf looked in his direction, catching him staring, but Thorin was quick to turn his look of wonder into that of distrust, summoning ice into his deep blue eyes. The wolf turned its gaze back to where Balin was telling a story, seemingly unfazed by Thorin's glare. Which, in turn, made him even more irritated. Although, if it was with himself or the wolf, he wasn't sure.  
  
"... So I wanted t' hear yer opinion on the matter. Whaddya think?"  
  
Thorin brought his gaze back to Dwalin, changing his scowl back into the usual expressionless face everybody was used to seeing on him. "I'm sorry?" he tried nonchalantly.  
  
But the dwarf sitting next to him always saw right through every one of his attempts to hide the fact that his thoughts weren't on the subject. This time, it wasn't any different. If Dwalin wasn't of the same stubborn and broody sorts as Thorin, he might've even rolled his eyes. "Y'know, it doesn't matter, really. I jus' wanted ta get yer mind off the bloody animal, but seems like my attempt was fruitless as always." He went back to sharpening his weapon, the sound of rock against steel being strangely comforting. A simple hum was all Thorin offered in response, but decided against looking back the wolf's way. Instead, he opted for studying the dark woods surrounding them, enjoying the sort-of silent company. Him and Dwalin were the same on the matter, they didn't have the need to fill the silence with meaningless small talk, which was why Thorin always sought his company above anyone else's.  
  
So it came as a surprise when Dwalin spoke again. "Ya should go n' try havin' a chat with the wizard's pet, or at least stop glarin' at it every chance ya got. If this continues for jus' a few more days, I swear, I'm gonna use force to make ya do so."  
  
Thorin frowned. "What are you talking about?"  
  
Dwalin, losing patience already, pointed at him with the rock he was using for sharpening, waving it in the air. "Yer broodin', of course!" At least he remembered to keep his voice low. "Admit it, yer mind has been on the wolf ever since the bloody animal appeared, but yer pride or whatever has forbidden ya from actually goin' and doin' something about it. Bunch o' bullshit, if ya ask me, jus' go do it before yer brain melts." With the rant finished, Dwalin returned his attention to his weapon, mumbling something among the lines of 'or before I lose my nerves'.

Thorin couldn't blame the dwarf, really. He, too, was aware of the way he was acting, and of the fact that he truly needed to resolve this rather sooner than later.

'Tomorrow', he reasoned. 'Tomorrow, I'll try interacting with it.' It was far too late for such things already, anyway - they all should've been asleep by now. Of course, he took the first watch, like every night, and noticed that his nephews chose to lie against the wolf, almost disappearing in its bushy fur. Thorin forced himself to look away, and tried to be okay with the fact that the wolf was now sleeping amongst them. However, most importantly, he tried to smother the pang of jealousy, that ran through his body at the thought of joining his nephews. It did look quite comfortable...

'Tomorrow' turned to two days, then three, and at the end of the third one, Thorin could practically feel the anger coming off Dwalin in heated waves, the dwarf nearly ready to tie him up in front of the wolf and not release him until the two at least got on tolerable terms. Because they had an exhausting day after them, Thorin made everyone go to sleep right after supper, his command surprisingly not being met with many protests. As per usual, he volunteered to take the first watch, ignoring the hard stares from Dwalin. He found a good spot by a boulder standing alone in the clearing they were camping in, from which he could oversee most of the camp. It didn't take long before everyone was dozing off gathered around the bonfire, the usual loud chatter being replaced by the silence of the night, which was only occasionally disturbed by a mild wind running through the leaves above him, or a bird singing somewhere nearby. Or, of course, the loud snores coming from most of the dwarves. Thorin didn't pay them any mind, though - after all, he was already used to them after the many days of traveling with the Company.

The night sky was gleaming with little bright lights that night, a full moon shining the brightest among them, covering the whole landscape in a soft light. This had to be the most beautiful night ever since their departure from Bag End. Thorin always found himself captured by the sky during his watches, mesmerized by the calmness emanating from it. Even this night, he wasn't about to change his little ritual, searching and putting a name to every constellation looming high above him. As a young dwarfling, they only taught him a little from astronomy, deeming it unnecessary knowledge for the king's heir and rather skipped to more important - and boring - subjects, such as politics and economy. However, even those few lessons were enough to catch his interest, and every night for the following month, he would find himself sneaking his way into the mountain's library on a quest to find out more about the subject.

Thorin smiled, a small upturn of lips hard to catch in the dark, as the memories of his little ventures came back to him. Night after night, he would secretly search for as much as a mention about stars, only to go back to bed disappointed every time. It was on the night he almost gave up, that he got caught in the act, by his father no less.

He expected to get reprimanded for not being in his chambers, asleep, or at least a talk about what dangerous things could happen to him while wandering the mountain alone at such late hours. However, Thráin wasn't like that, his father could be hard on him when he wanted, but Thorin knew that deep down, he loved him more than anything in the world. When he found out the reason for Thorin's presence in the library, he surprised him with bursting into laughter, before simply sending him back to bed without any scolding whatsoever. Even more baffled was Thorin when not more than a week later, after a hard day of combat training, he found several books waiting for him on his bed.

However, between all his lessons and training, there wasn't much time to read.

_Thorin..._

Which is why he took advantage of every little chance he could.

_Thorin._

His mother wasn't always exactly over the moon about that.

_"Thorin!"_

_He almost jumped at his mother's stern tone, shutting the book closed and looking over to the other side of the table, where she was sitting with a glass in hand. He met her eyes, which bore the hint of anger, but mostly, it was simple irritation._

_"How many times have I told you, no reading during dinner!" When he lowered his head in shame, her tone lost all the anger, and she tried softening the blow with the usual kind voice he associated with her the most. "Sweetie, while I support you in your new hobby, we're having a family dinner here, you can read after you finish your meal." Thorin didn't know how to reply - he wanted to tell her, that his free time was in fact very limited, but he knew it would not help, quite possibly the opposite. Grandfather was sitting not too far from them, and even though he was already engaged in a conversation with somebody else, Thorin didn't wish to complain in front of him, as he feared it would be taken as weakness. So, he kept his head low, picking up his fork in silence and poking at the food on his plate, all appetite lost._

_His father's voice came from next to Thorin, addressing his wife sitting opposite to him. "Dear, let him read, it is good that he finally found something he's enthusiastic about."_

_A sigh was her response. "That is another topic I have wanted to bring up, amrâlimê. I know how important his education is, believe me, but... is it not all too much? Look at him, Thráin. He is but a child still, and already, he has so much on his shoulders that there is no time left for what the boy really wants to do; for him just... truly being a child. Instead, he is forced to do that at moments like this, swallowing letters instead of his dinner!"_

_To his surprise, Thráin agreed with a pensive hum, laying down the knife the dwarf still had in his hand. He then turned to Thorin, who was returning his gaze with a little skeptical thoughts as to what his father came up with this time. Even his mother froze, watching on with anticipation mixed with wariness. "For once, your mother is right." A loud sputtering came from the direction of the woman in question, which Thráin ignored with almost practiced ease, although Thorin still caught the momentary slight upturn of the corner of his father's mouth, which was gone almost as quickly as it appeared, the hard face in place yet again. "I was thinking that a little trip, away from this mountain, would do you good. So I have asked your grandfather to allow me to take you somewhere for a while - under the guise of it being a... let us call it 'lesson in life'." Raising an eyebrow, the dwarf continued after a momentary pause. "How do you feel about accompanying me to Iron Hills? I can also test your driving skills on the way, while we're at it." He finished it with a lopsided grin, knowing full well that riding lessons were one of Thorin's favourite._

_It was almost laughable how his father could deliver such happy news with a monotone, some would say even bored, voice. Even better was Thorin responding with a firm nod, face carrying no sign of emotions, contrary to the overjoyed thoughts running through his dazzled brain and the quick, excited beating of his heart. Though everyone who knew him well enough would catch the way his eyes sparked to life, or how his voice cracked a little at the end of his reply._

_"I would love to, father..."_

_A soft, wet plop sounded somewhere near, and he could feel a strange coldness run over his forehead._

_"Father?"_

_There came no response from the dwarf. The time seemed to come to a sudden halt, the image becoming blurry, his father's face soon being nothing but a smudge on a dark canvas filled with white dots of varying sizes. Another cold plop, this time quickly followed by more and more. He tried to call for his father again, but the dwarf was already gone, replaced by the face of somebody else._

_Or something..._

Thorin quickly came to his senses, finding out that he foolishly closed his eyes and let his mind drift away to sleep, the long day taking a toll on him as well as the others, even though he refused to acknowledge it earlier. He quickly realized that the coldness he felt was, in fact, a rain, which was pouring down in full, soaking up his clothes and hair uncomfortably. However, that was the last thing on his mind, as his eyes were fixed on an entirely different thing.

Looming above him, was the face of a wolf, piercing golden eyes staring directly into his.

Thorin sat up faster than he had in plan, head swimming for a second while the animal quickly backed away as a reaction to Thorin's sudden movement. As soon as the world stopped spinning, Thorin made to stand up, but the ground was already lowered into a slippery pool of mud, making his first attempt turn out with him only landing back on his ass, an angry curse in Khuzdul flying out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

He was pretty positive that the very ungraceful display he just created was the cause for the burst of laughter that erupted from somebody not too far away. Of course, it was none other than Dwalin he found bowled over with laughter once he sent an angry glare that way - well, as angry as somebody covered in mud could. As Dwalin noticed his expression, it only seemed to put more fuel to his fit, it was a wonder the dwarf managed to stay standing.

Thorin was about to retort something, dark ideas forming in his mind, but before he could say a word, an angry growl came from in front of him.

It was so surprising that everyone fell silent, even Dwalin. Thorin looked up to see the wolf sending a snarl towards the laughing dwarf, and once the animal was satisfied with the bewildered look it caused on his face, it turned back to Thorin, easing back into its usual calm demeanor. Thorin stayed still as a stone, not knowing what to make of all that just happened. The wolf never showed any signs of hostility towards any of them, it always remained calm no matter the situation. And, most importantly, he felt like if the animal ever sticked up for someone, him would be the last one on the list.

Before his brain could fully process everything, a hand entered his vision, offering to help him up. He took it and grumbled a thanks to Balin, who only nodded in acknowledgment. Thorin looked down on himself, frowning at the uncomfortable feeling of wet clothes sticking to his skin. Seeing that there was nothing that could be done about that at the moment, he brushed it off with a roll of his shoulder and quickly returned his attention back to the reason for his hasty awakening.  
  
The wolf was no longer paying him any mind, trotting off to where the rest of the group was already gathered up and looking around peevishly. He watched the animal's retreat for a few heartbeats, the urge to catch up to it and ask all the questions flying around in his head strong. However, there were more important things that needed to be done at the moment - like finding a shelter from the twice-damned downpour that so suddenly ambushed them.

He made a promise to himself to find the wolf as soon as all was taken care of.

   
▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬

 

They were luckily able to find a cave not too far from their initial camp, but by that time, everyone was already all soaked up to the bones anyway. For Daenar, that wasn't much of a problem - he simply shook the water out of his fur before stepping under the roof of their newfound shelter. However, the others had it worse. Bilbo even started coughing and snuffling, having to borrow Bifur's handkerchief since he forgot his back in Bree. At first, the hobbit stared at the piece of cloth like it carried all the illnesses in the world, but quickly forgot about that as the next coughing fit overcame him, blurting some words of gratitude before having to blow his nose.

Dwarves were more resilient, but even them weren't happy about their soaked clothes and how cold the air suddenly was - plus, they had to dry their clothes somehow. Luckily, somebody was clever enough to carry some dry wood in their backpack, so they were able to create a fire, though it wasn't big enough and there wasn't much fuel, meaning they couldn't maintain it for long.

Daenar knew he had to go find more usable firewood, there had to be some that was protected from the rain. However, just as he was about to step back out into the open, someone cleared his throat directly behind his back, freezing him mid-movement.

Thorin came standing beside him, looking over the forest surrounding their cave with calculating eyes. The dwarf's long locks of inky hair sticked to his face, and his armor was still dripping with water, yet if he was bothered by that, it was carefully concealed under a mask of utter ignorance. Which was nothing new to Daenar, he was already well aware of how much their leader liked to bottle everything inside, being it something uncomfortable, emotions, or even a small injury. To the point where it was no longer admirable, but rather pretty annoying.

If he could speak up, he would already have pointed it out, there was no reason for such behaviour. However, he could imagine that such a conversation would inevitably end in Thorin's favor, anyway, so it was probably better his transformation kept him from said action. That didn't mean he had to like it, though.

A moment of silence passed between them, before Thorin finally spoke, voicing Daenar's exact thoughts. "We have to find something flammable, else we're risking our burglar's ability to continue in the journey." That was the first time the dwarf truly spoke to him, other than an occasional bark of orders. Of course, this could be taken as an order, as well, but it was the tone it was said with, or the use of the word 'we', that made it different. Daenar found himself glancing over at the dwarf, waiting for more to be said. Thorin had his head tilted back, looking up at the cloudburst high above them, and his arms were crossed on his chest. "Normally, I would say we split and search by ourselves, but not in this weather." The dwarf then brought his gaze back down, now scanning their surroundings yet again. He then pointed directly to his right. "The forest looks thickest in that direction. We should walk in a straight line, that way we will definitely find our way back." Daenar tilted his head in question. Was he implying they go search together? 'We' meaning how many people exactly?

The answer to that came when the dwarf adjusted the strap from his borrowed backpack, and without a word of warning went out into the rain. It was so sudden that by the time Daenar realized he should move, too, he had to catch up to the dwarf, who was almost under the safety of the trees already. He realized that so far, there weren't any scowls accompanying Thorin's words, and their, well, one-sided conversation, didn't carry a sign of distrust or wariness from the dwarf's side. It was so surprising that Daenar had a hard time grasping all of it, but then again, maybe Thorin had his mind mainly on the safety of his Company, and has temporarily forgotten how to act towards him.

Or the dwarf hit himself on the head somewhere. That was also a valid possibility.

Before he could ponder on all the possible explanations, he noticed the dwarf was standing just past the forest's edge, and thankfully managed to stop before running into him. Initially, he thought Thorin stopped just to make sure Daenar was following, but another question came. The dwarf seemed to hesitate for a split second, as if thinking his question through. "Out of curiosity, do you think we can rely on your smell to lead us back to the cave?"

To that, Daenar gave a short shake of his head in an answer. His smell was excellent under normal conditions, but rain could very easily and quickly efface all tracks and smells, basically rendering that sense very unreliable, thus it became dangerous to count on.

For some reason, he would swear he caught Thorin's eyes widen momentarily, but the moment was gone about as quickly as it appeared, and as soon as Thorin's face showed no sign of emotions whatsoever again, the dwarf turned and resumed their walk. As was agreed on, they kept walking straight ahead, occasionally having to avoid an obstacle, but Thorin made sure to immediately align himself back with their notional line. All the while both of them kept their eyes open for something they could bring back to their camp. Although Daenar could imagine such thing being quite hard for his companion, as the dark sky and treetops blocking the moonlight both limited the dwarf's vision. Luckily, Daenar didn't have such a problem.

Thorin would sometimes stop and crouch to inspect a piece of wood he found lying on the ground and thought it salvageable, more often than not ending up leaving it there anyway. Apart from the everpresent splatter of raindrops, the forest was calm, all the animals already hid away from the rain. Only an occasional snap of a twig underneath their feet pierced the otherwise unchanging atmosphere - which didn't bother him at all, he was okay with silence, plus it wasn't like he expected Thorin to be very talkative.

Eventually, Daenar spotted a small, round alcove in a rock wall to their left. The hole wasn't big by any means, he would guess roughly two meters wide and half of that tall, but so far, it was the most promising place they came across where they could actually find something not debased by water. He stopped and growled non-threateningly to get Thorin's attention, but skipped the waiting part and started towards his find.

His initial guess was truly right - the alcove was, indeed, not very big. To his pleasant surprise though, the ground seemed to be nestled with dry twigs and leaves, which wasn't the best option, but they had to do with whatever they were dealt. However, his movement came to a halt as he registered a slight movement from inside. Soon later, a rustling sound added to his suspicions - there was something in the shadows there, hiding from the rain.

Knowing that, he progressed with more caution, eyes wildly scanning the inside of the hole for more signs of movement. He had no doubt that what was hiding from them was something small, otherwise he would've already been able to see it. Sure enough, from the far left corner came more rustling, and Daenar could make out a silhouette if he focused on said spot. Or, rather, silhouettes.

Coming even closer further steeled his assumption. There, huddled in the leaves, lay an adult fox, and hiding behind it were a few scared cubs, several pairs of curious eyes peeking from behind what most likely was their mother. The mother growled as Daenar found himself nearing the alcove, and the little grey balls of fur behind her took the hint and snuggled deeper into her fur, but their eyes stayed on the invader, inspecting. Daenar noticed there was a pile of wood right next to the frightened family.

He completely forgot Thorin was there with him, as his head snapped in the direction of the sound of crunching leaves and his body tensed with adrenaline, expecting to get attacked. Thorin, too, tensed, and his hand shot to the sword strapped on his hip, remaining there even as Daenar relaxed once again.

It only then occurred to Daenar that his companion was still most likely clueless as to what he discovered, as the dwarf couldn't clearly see inside the alcove over him. Upon realizing that, he stepped aside just enough to reveal the small animal family, and with it, the wood next to them.

The bewildered expression on Thorin's face was absolutely priceless, as he initially probably didn't know what to think of the gesture. Then, upon looking into the hole, the dwarf narrowed his eyes, eyebrows doing a back-and-forth dance as his thoughts were most likely scattered all around like blown out by a hurricane. A flash of alarm came over his face, hand again grabbing for the handle of his weapon, but it was all gone quickly, replaced by confusion again. Lastly, the dwarf's usual composed facade came into place, probably as an attempt to scramble back enough dignity after the recent display.

All stages played out in the matter of two to three seconds, but it was more than enough for Daenar to catch all of them. It would almost have been adorable if they both weren't peeved and soaked to the bones.

Thorin put his sword away and, acting as if nothing happened, he walked over to the alcove, taking care not to seem a threat to the foxes as he carefully stuffed the wood into his borrowed backpack. Daenar only watched on with a slight tilt to his head, then only followed after the dwarf when he grumbled something about having enough to last the night and started back the way they came.

It wasn't like he didn't predict that Thorin was able to convey such emotions - of course he was, but the emotions in the dwarf were purposefully dimmed, or rather stomped to the ground, from his very upbringing. People like him, acting so prideful and majestic, were always doing just that, acting. Kings, lords, all of the upper class, it was all nothing but a game of charm, composure, over-politeness and, most importantly, showing off.

Which, honestly, were all things that flew right over Daenar's head. Not that he was some uneducated lowbrow; he knew tids and bits from what you could call 'upper class customs', from dining rules to leading a polite conversation, but they all came primarily from books and spending a little time amongst elves during his younger years. Nothing fancy, really. Sure, if he was brought up in an environment such as Thorin was, his view on the matter would surely differentiate from the current one. But he wasn't, and although he didn't really have it against Thorin for acting such way, nobody could blame him if he was just a little uncomfortable to be around the dwarf.

Still, it was nice seeing that there were some other facial expressions which the stubborn and grumpy Thorin Oakenshield could produce, other than the permanent resting bitch face.

The walk back was pretty short and silent again, as Daenar apprehended and was glad for. The rain was still pouring upon their return, although not with as much intensity, and the company was quick to revive the bonfire, heating up the interior nicely. While supper was being made for the others, Daenar, feeling the exhaustion creeping into his bones, decided to only eat a raw piece of meat and then find a spot further away from the others in order to catch some shuteye without disturbing. However, a call of his name, as he made to carry his portion away, made him stop.

His name felt weird, leaving Thorin's tongue, but that wasn't the most baffling thing yet. As he turned back around, their leader walked up to him with all the proud fashion that most associated him with, which didn't truly match his next words. Daenar watched, completely unperturbed, as Thorin puffed out his chest, and looked him straight in the eyes. But the dwarf seemed to hesitate a moment, mouth opening and closing, as if he wasn't sure what to say. Before Daenar could tilt his head in question, though, Thorin managed to summon his commanding voice and say, "I do believe you should be closer to the bonfire with us, tonight."

Well, that was new. Thorin was usually the one who seemed downright infuriated by Daenar's close proximity, and tonight, the dwarf not only went on a stroll with him, but he also _invited_ him to sit with the rest of them?

Something was going on, and Daenar couldn't quite put his finger around it.

Before he could come up with an explanation, Thorin, probably noticing Daenar's stiffness (and all the eyes that were on the two of them), hastily added, "I will need you to scout ahead again tomorrow, and cannot risk you catching a fever. Thus, it will be better if you sit by the fire."

It was almost impressive how the dwarf was able to say that so it sounded like a command. While obviously just an excuse, it was an offer Daenar wasn't going to decline. He took it with a curt nod, and Thorin, seemingly satisfied, walked off to sit next to Dwalin once again. Before his brain could catch up, both Kili and Fili were already dragging him to the bonfire, where the rest of the company made a space for him. He noticed that Bilbo was doing well, wrapped in three thick blankets and sipping away from a steaming cup of probably some herbal mix of Oin's doing.

As always, a conversation was struck very quickly, and Daenar found his sleepiness being carried away as laughter and singing brightened the atmosphere.

And whenever he glanced in Thorin's direction, his gaze wasn't met with a hateful scowl. That was a nice change, though he still kind of doubted it would last...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thorin's trying, okay?! I just have this idea inside my head that he's just a big ball of fluff but is too stubborn and prideful to let it show :^)  
> Fight me!


	3. Things Meant To Stay Hidden

╭╼|══════════|╾╮

 **Chapter 3  
** **Things Meant To Stay Hidden**

╰╼|══════════|╾╯

 

 _They thought him a monster, a spawn of devil,_  
_driving him away with weapons and ugly words as shouts of terror echo in his ears.  
_ _So, you would excuse him if he was apprehensive when it came to revealing the truth._

 

* * *

 

 

They have been on the way for three weeks - a month, if you also counted in the first week when Daenar wasn't with them yet. So far, their journey went without bigger complications, meaning any life-threatening ones. As the day rolled by again, Daenar returned to the dwarves from his scouting to find them already gathered around a bonfire, Bofur just taking out his flute. He already learned that Thorin always decided to make camp just before the last sun streaks disappeared, granted that there was a good place to make camp in the first place. If not, they continued for a while longer, but always found a suitable place in no time.

Usually, Daenar decided not to bother them and spent the night either wandering the woods around the camp, or rolling into a ball in a safe distance from them just enough so they would be able to see him. Tonight, he opted for the former. He never strayed too far from the camp, in case anything happened, but tonight, he found himself wander a bit further into the forest. How surprised was he when the trees opened up in front of him to reveal a clearing with a solid rock wall, surrounded by trees creating an almost perfect ellipse. A stream was falling down the wall into a pool of pure water, just inviting to be jumped into. He was due for a bath, as he didn't have one in almost a week. And the water looked so enticing...

In the end, the temptation won over his sense, and he also decided that, while he was at it, he might as well hop into the water in his human form. After all, it's been too long since he was his own self, and even though being a wolf wasn't half bad, a break was kind of called for. With the decision made, he wasted no time, beginning the transformation. First, his limbs started to change, and he leaned back on his back legs, managing to stand up. Soon, his torso began to transform as well, followed closely by the head. The whole transformation took but a few seconds, and he immediately felt relief wash over him as it finished.

Daenar had a long, lined face, with high cheekbones and a sharp nose. A scar ran horizontally over his nose, beginning under one eye and ending under the other one, a bit shorter on one side than on the other. His golden eyes had a bit of an orange tint when he was a human, making them a little darker, but otherwise they stayed the same colour whichever form he was in, almost shining in the night. He had dark, messy hair, and a full beard which was, contrary to his hair, neatly trimmed. He wasn't that tall for a human, but together with a pretty muscular body, he struck a rather handsome figure, although there was never anyone to judge so; apart from Gandalf, that is, but the wizard had no reason to comment on his looks. And frankly, Daenar didn't even care about it all that much.

Although it still seemed really strange to him, even after all this time, clothes transformed with him too. He took in his characteristic black leather armor with a grey shirt underneath, simple leather trousers dyed black as well, and a white fur collar going around the back of his neck, from which a black cape was hanging, almost touching the ground. A simple leather belt was wrapped around his waist, holding a holster with a steel sword that had a leather hilt and runes carved into the blade. Daenar considered himself a pretty good swordsman, even if he prefered fighting in his wolf form. The last item was a pair of fur boots, which were a little worn already, but he would never replace them for anything else. He didn't use gloves, as he hated the feel of them.

When he stripped out of all his clothes and armor, he stepped into the lukewarm water, sore muscles immediately relaxing as soon as the water enveloped his body. Ah, how much he missed this. Daenar let himself float on top of the water, reveling in the feeling, losing himself in his thoughts. His mind wandered to memories from his youth, this pool reminding him of the lake that was just behind their house.

Every child from the village used to play near the lake, running around mothers rinsing clothes in the water and letting them dry either over racks set out on the shore or from windows. Boats were parked in neat rows not far away by a long mole running along the shore, where men set sail from each morning with fishing rods and nets, returning come noon or later with enough fish to feed their family.

His father used to be one of those men, a riant and lively person, easily liked by the majority of the village. He could get along even with the most grumpy and distrustful people, and brighten the atmosphere wherever he went. At least, that's how the man was portrayed in his head, supported by his mother's stories. The man died when Daenar was little, and the few memories that still lingered were already fuzzy. He couldn't even remember his face anymore.

Did he take after him? Does he share any of his father's traits? Eyes, nose, face, anything? The only thing he remembered, but wouldn't bet his life on, was that the man had inky black hair and a full beard. However, when it comes to the personality traits, he was certain he didn't inherit any of those.

First of all, Daenar was a shy child. That didn't only come from being afraid of letting his hidden abilities loose, fearing people's judgment or that he would hurt someone. But he never truly even humored the idea of playing with his peers, the thought alone exhausted him. Thus, Daenar avoided spending time amongst other people, rather opting to stay home with his mother.

However, that didn't mean he was lonely. Apart from having his mother, he also made friends elsewhere.

Every once in a while, mainly at night, he would sneak out into the woods next to the lake, either in an animal or even human form, despite the village folk warning of its danger. Nobody ever wandered there, as it was said that dark and dangerous creatures lurked in the depths. Many believed a curse has been cast on the forest by some witch or demon.

He thought it all very silly. It was truly remarkable what nonsense people could come up with or believe in, the elderly passing such tales onto the younglings, generation after generation instilling them into their open and naive minds. Daenar was a less trustful person, he liked to first see everything with his own two eyes and make a picture based on his observations. That was also how he decided to explore the woods, alone and wary at first, but he soon found out there was no such evil residing in it - quite the opposite, in fact. Untouched by human hands, the forest was left to its own devices, growing in peace and quiet. Ancient trees towered over the younger ones, their trunks twisting in chaotic patterns and branches expanding so far they ultimately tangled together with their neighbours', only allowing but few rays of light through. However, even the occasional stream of light that made its way through the canopy was enough to allow for a diversity of mushrooms to sprout in groups from the fertile soil beneath his feet, or grow from the weathered trees' barks. A range of flowers highlighted the otherwise monotone backdrop, decorating it in a number of warm colours. Life radiated from everywhere around, a medley of animal noises brightening up the forest, drowning out the swaying of treetops in the wind, reminding visitors of the perfect harmony the residents lived in.

The depths of that place quickly became his escape from reality, it was the only place where he finally felt like he could actually breathe. At the beginning, his visits were very sporadic, but soon they grew in number, until there wasn't a day when he didn't at least think about going there. The animals got used to his presence, as well - he emitted some kind of a calming aura making them trust him, be it a hare, a deer, a wolf or even a bear. He found them to be much better a company than the one of humans, and in return for their acceptance, he helped them with their troubles, injuries and other things that were in his ability to fix.

Of course, over time, it became increasingly harder to slip away without raising suspicion, as the villagers started to notice this oddball, in hushed tones exchanging thoughts and theories as to explain the child's behaviour. Several times over, people tried to talk to him, but he always slipped their grasp - which only served to make their jabbering grow, he knew, but at the time, he couldn't bring himself to care.

It only became a problem once his mother picked up on his nightly disappearances. Were he anybody else, she would probably think he sneaked out with his friends, rebellious as children were; but that obviously couldn't be the case. Numerous scoldings were given, yet Daenar never learned his lesson. He knew she was only afraid for his safety, and tried to assure her he was going to be fine, but her worry couldn't be quenched so easily.

It was on one fateful night, that he truly realized his mistakes - far too late.

_To this day, he can clearly see the fire, a painfully real picture haunting him during restless nights filled with cries and despair. In his scattered mind, he already went through all the possible what-ifs, playing out different scenarios which could lead to a different outcome. The scarlet moon painting the night red should alone have been a sufficient warning that something terrible was on the horizon, but the flames blazing high into the sky, clearly visible from distance as he sprinted through the forest, were more than just a prognostication. He ran as fast as he could, a black shadow whizzing by, golden wolf eyes shining in the night like two orbs of light._

_The flames were already way out of control when he reached the house, turning back to human form before stepping out of the forest's shadows. Like greedy fingers, the flames swallowed everything they came in contact with, threateningly swirling around, daring anyone to come closer - nobody in their right mind would do so, lest they wanted to taste their sharpness in the flesh._

_However, the worst thing were the people bustling around the building on fire, holding torches, pitchforks, axes, even swords as they shouted over eachother. He ran to the front, where he found his mother knocked to her knees, a man holding her by the hair, a torch in his other hand as he was making a speech to a half-circle of gathered villagers. To this day, the words still echoed in his ears everytime this memory overtook him._

_"-At last, we will lift the curse cast upon the forest! At last, we will-"_

_"-Stop!", he shouted hoarsely as he sprinted towards his mother. "W-what are you doing?!" There were tears gathering in his eyes, disbelief filling his every word._

_The man - who he recognized as the once best friend of his father, living a few houses away from them - spun around, face lighting up as his eyes landed on the boy running towards him. A torch was being pointed in his direction in the next second. "Behold, the monster child came back from the forest!" Daenar's horror only grew as his mother was thrown in his direction, crying out in pain, stumbling into his arms. "Burn the witch with the devil! Cleanse this land of their impurity! Avenge the man, my friend, who most certainly fell victim to their dark sorcery and maledictions!"_

_Bile rose in his throat as shouts and cries erupted all around, clutching the trembling body of his mother to himself and scanning the scene with wild eyes. He thought about changing, but that wouldn't help pacify the situation, without a doubt having the opposite effect. They already thought him a monster, a spawn of devil, and proving their suspicions true would only destroy any chance of getting out of the situation without shedding blood._

_But what was there to do? Was there any way out of this?_

_He wasn't left with much time to think, as somebody suddenly surged forward, swiping with their sword, aiming for his mother's head. In a flash, Daenar pulled her out of range, but in turn, made himself vulnerable to the strike._

_It all happened so fast. He cried out in pain as the sword cut in a horizontal line over his nose, cutting through it and just by sheer luck not separating it from his face. The excruciating pain was all his mind could focus on; all sounds, the fiery heat behind his back, everything was drowned out, his mind numbed, eyes filled with terror, despair and hopelessness as they focused on the blood splattered on the ground._ _**His blood.** _ _Some part of his mind registered a different pain in his abdomen, and immediately after, a woman's scream coming from somewhere close, yet both were so distant, it could've as well been his imagination._

 _Time moved almost painfully slow. The smell of smoke threatened to choke him, squeezing his lungs, and the bitter taste of blood on his tongue made his stomach turn and clench. Out of the corner of his eyes, he caught sight of more movement, yet there was no more strength in him to dodge the attack. Tears filled his face, burning as they came into contact with the new open cut, trickling down his pale face. His last thoughts went to his mother - she didn't deserve this,_ _**he** _ _was the one they wanted..._

_He waited for the final blow, for the blackness to swallow him and the ringing in his ears to stop for good._

_Yet, it didn't come. Or it already did, and he just wasn't aware anymore. However, he couldn't bring himself to care, when there suddenly were gentle arms being wrapped around his shoulders, tugging him into a warm, loving embrace. He burrowed deeper into it, desperately grasping for the smallest comfort or hope they brought, ignoring the sharp pang that came upon his nose coming to contact with something. Long locks of hair cascaded over his head, brushing against his cheek. "I'm sorry", came a whisper, in unmistakably his mother's soothing voice._

_**'No',** _ _he thought. '_ _**It's me who should be sorry...'** _

_Based on the tone of her voice, she had to be smiling. "You did nothing wrong, Daenar."_ _**But he did. This was all his fault** _ _. Daenar hooked his arms around his mother's body, grabbing a fistful of the soft fabric of her dress. One of the woman's hands came up to pet his head, whispering little nothings in an unsuccessful attempt to calm him down._ _**How could she not see? He killed them both.** _ _His body shook with fear and regret, tears involuntarily spilling out of his eyes, even as his mother began to rock them from side to side._ _**How could she not hate him?** _

_"Shhh, don't cry, my dear," her voice came again. Through his eyelids, he noticed a soft light outside, and slowly blinked his eyes open. "Everything is going to be fine." Her normally white hair was somehow brighter now, glowing slightly in the dark. It was strangely comforting to his broken mind, he couldn't bring himself to question why it was glowing, even as the light intensified. Instead, he only closed his eyes again, content on letting this strange dream go on for as long as he could._

_"I won't let any harm come to you." Were the last words he heard before the radiant white enveloped him entirely, tender fingers running through his hair, lulling him into peaceful slumber._

_The next thing he remembered, he was being almost harshly woken up by a stray bright ray of sunlight shining directly into his eyes, making him squint and grimace as he moved away from its range. In doing so, he felt a small, stinging tug on his nose, and reflexively raised a hand to inspect the area, only to blench as the stinging became a mild burn after only a light touch. The confusion that broke out on his face didn't last long as he suddenly recalled the events leading to that injury, making him sit up in a flash. That turned out to be a mistake, as a pang of searing pain broke on his abdomen, and he hissed in pain while his hand shot to the area out of reflex._

_It took a moment for the pain to subside, until it was no more than an uncomfortable pressure. Looking around, Daenar found out to be lying in a soft bed, and after leaving some time for his eyes to regain focus, he looked around the room he found himself in. How he got there, he had no recollection of, but the place didn't look very familiar. It was rather small, clean, and had a pretty minimalistic aesthetic. There were but few pieces of furniture inside. A bookcase with some dusty books stood in the corner furthest away from him, right next to wooden door that has certainly seen better days. Then there obviously was the bed he was in, placed by a wall with a small window. A bedside table stood right next to him, and a rocking chair was at the other end of the bed, facing the middle of the room._

_In the rocking chair sat an old man, a pipe in mouth, reading from a book with foreign symbols on the cover. He was dressed in a plain grey robe visibly too big for his slim body, and a pointy, wide-brimmed hat sat on his head, casting shadow over his face. The only facial feature that wasn't completely obscured was a long, grey beard, that further hinted at the person's age._

_The chair released soft creaks as the stranger swung it, fully immersed in the thick, strange book. His slender fingers came up to the pipe, curling around its wooden body as he slowly removed it from his mouth, and a thick cloud of smoke appeared soon later, hanging in the air for a few seconds before beginning to dissipate. Daenar watched on with a mixture of curiosity and a good degree of wariness as the smoke slowly disappeared in a chaotic whirling dance, not knowing what to make of the situation he found himself in. At first, he was convinced that what he was experiencing was happening only inside his head, some kind of a post-death illusion, maybe the man in the chair was the god humans worshipped, the one whose existence Daenar refused to believe in. But... if that was so, then what was he doing here? What would the god he rejected his whole life want to do with him?_

_"So you're finally awake..." came in a deep rumble, interrupting Daenar's thoughts and making him almost jump out of his skin. The old man's gaze was still firmly set on the book as those words left his mouth, but at least he inclined his head enough to let some light in, revealing a part of his wrinkled face. "It was high time you did." An audible thump sounded as the book was suddenly shut closed. The old man turned in the chair, at last allowing his whole face to be illuminated, and gently placed the book on top of the bed. Before Daenar could inspect what was newly revealed, a pair of sparkling blue eyes met his, capturing his whole attention. "How are you feeling?"_

_Contrary to how the stranger looked, his eyes still held strength and power that far surpassed any expectations._

_The old man stood up, walking over to the side of the bed. "Now, I'm sure you have a lot of questions..." While not absolutely sure, Daenar would swear he saw a smile, but it was hard to catch under the thick beard._

_His brows furrowed in thought. Indeed, he did have a number of questions._ _**Where was he? Who was the man? What happened to his mother?** _ _He deepened his frown, aware that the other was waiting patiently for his reply._

_"Am I dead?" was the first question he settled on._

_That gave the stranger a pause. It only lasted a second, before a hearty chuckle escaped him, and he resumed doing whatever he intended to, before. His voice carried a lighter tone now, as if Daenar's question actually amused him. "No, no, I have spent the last few days making sure you don't. Die, I mean." He reached for something on the bedside table, then brought it to his nose, smelling the object's contents. It was only some small, wooden mug, but what was inside, Daenar couldn't see. The old man stuck a finger into the mug then brought it to his lips, staring up for a second in thought, before giving himself a short approving nod and turning to Daenar once again, handing him the mug. "It would be a real bummer if all that effort ended up being for nothing, wouldn't it?" Daenar took the mug with a bit of reluctance, which only grew as he saw that the liquid inside was of a green colour, and smelled like... well... poop._

_Seeing his face scrunched up in disgust pulled another chuckle from the stranger. "Do not be fooled by its appearance, that is one of the strongest healing potions I am capable of creating. It has managed to keep you alive, you are quite lucky I carry ingredients for it with me at all times."_

_"Healing potion?" He looked up at the old man with a newfound wonder, forgetting all about his prudence. There was something about the man that made Daenar believe he could truly trust him._

_A nod was the response. "I have also put a salve on that injury on your abdomen. You have almost bled out; if the arrow went any deeper, it could've been beyond my healing abilities."_

_An arrow? He didn't remember an arrow being fired, let alone getting shot. All those questions running inside his head, and not nearly enough answers. However, he was sure this old man could give him the answers later, for now, he had to focus on the present. "Who are you, exactly?"_

_The stranger's smile only grew, as he sat down onto the bed. "All will be explained to you later, I assure you. For now, just know that I am here to keep you safe." He pointed at the mug. "Now, drink up, boy. Unfortunately, it tastes the way it smells, but you will feel better almost immediately, I assure you."_

_He did as he was asked, coughing a little as the bitter liquid slid down his throat. "Can I at least know your name?" he asked while trying his hardest to keep himself from coughing even more._

_He felt the weight of the other person disappear from the bed as he stood up, and then the mug was being taken from his hands. "I'm called many things. Common folk like to keep it simple though, and I'm just 'a wizard' to them." Daenar let the man gently lie him down and pull the covers over his body, feeling numbed already, and a strange heat appeared where his injuries were. His mind, though, was on what the man said._

_A wizard? As in, a real one? No, that couldn't be._

_The wizard muttered something about sleep being the best medicine, then stood up, and, taking back his book, began to walk away. Daenar watched his retreating back, suddenly feeling very tired, and the world was already swimming, making it hard to catch anything the old man was saying. Before the man disappeared behind the door, he turned his head back one last time. Apart from the other things, though, Daenar could hear what he said next, crystal clear."However, you can call me Gandalf." With that, the door closed, and Daenar was left to his own thoughts._

He stayed by the pool long after getting out of it and putting his clothes back on. He left his boots aside still, and sat on the edge, dangling his bare feet in the water and watching the ripples he was creating. His mind was still all over the place from his memories, which must've been why he didn't hear the rustling behind him until it was too late. "Hey!", sounded a familiar voice, and Daenar froze. _No. No, no, no, they weren't meant to find out_. "Are you a friend, or an enemy? Stand up!" He never heard Kíli sound as serious as in that moment.

Gears started turning inside his head, thinking of ways to escape. "Hands above your head, please," said Fíli more calmly after Daenar stood up, from much more closer than Kíli. He did as he was asked, then felt his sword being taken out of its holster in a lightning speed. Despite the situation, he had to admire Fíli's quickness. "We won't harm you, nor will we capture you, if we determine you're not posing any threat. Please, turn around."

He did as he was asked, slowly, playing for time so he could come up with a way out of the tightrope situation. Kíli had an arrow trained on him, and Fíli was standing just enough away so Daenar couldn't reach the dwarf in time before he had an arrow in him. It was smart. However, that wasn't exactly what was on his mind at the moment. _I could pretend to be a travelling merchant - no, that wouldn't work, dumbass, where are the goods... A hunter, I could be a hunter - but what would I hope to hunt down this late?_

He was panicking at that point, which had to show on his face, as Fíli frowned. "I said we wouldn't hurt you, please, calm down." The prince sounded so assuring, as if calming down a scared animal.

In his panic, Daenar's eyes shot to the speaker, meeting with Fili's for a brief moment. It was enough for a spark of recognition to flash through the dwarf's eyes, and Daenar's thoughts snapped to a stop upon realizing the mistake he made. Of course, his characteristic eyes, they were the dead giveaway. He was waiting for it. The shift in Fíli as he put two and two together. The horror in his eyes, his name being spoken, fear etched in the other's voice. He couldn't look at it, had to bring his gaze to the ground again, hot tears threatening to spill out. He feared what would come next - no, he was absolutely terrified. It was all almost too much to bear.

"Garrett?"

There it was. He knew now, there was no point in hiding anymore. With a heavy sigh, Daenar let his hands fall, head hanging low.

"Garrett, is that you?"

An almost too long pause followed, before Daenar answered in a deep, broken rumble. "I'm sorry, Kíli, Fíli. I never meant for you two to find out this way."

He was too deep in his self-deprecation, shrinking in on himself, to notice how the princes' faces brightened. Maybe that was why it came as a surprise when he found himself being squeezed between two bodies in a hug. Daenar remained still as a stone, confusion written all over his face as the two dwarves laughed. "We had our suspicions and theories," said Kíli after the hug ended. The dumbfounded look Daenar regarded him with only served to widen the dwarf's smile. "So, are you a wizard? Or a werewolf? Can you-"

"-Kíli!" Fíli scolded his brother, lightly hitting him over the head and saving Daenar from the onslaught of questions. "Can't you see you're frightening him?" he exclaimed, to which Kíli countered with a huff and a retort, saying he was simply just curious. Soon enough, they started a light, very brotherly argument, leaving Daenar baffled. He was still trying to grasp what exactly was going on. When he spoke, the argument died out.

"You... aren't at all frightened of me?" His voice was rough and shaken, as the memory from his youth played out in his head over and over. _I'm a monster, why aren't they afraid? Why don't they despise me?_ His body shook with fear and, most importantly, lack of understanding.

"No, why would we be?" It was Fíli who first noticed Daenar's panic. A frown replaced his smile, as he took a step towards Daenar and tried to take his hand, but he flinched away. "Garrett, what's going on?"

Daenar's reply was muffled as he buried his face in his hands. "It just-... People don't take that fact so calmly, they always-..." The sadness and fear slowly disappeared with every word, replaced by an emotion far darker and more twisted. He started waving his arms around in frustration. "They call me a monster, a devil, all sorts of things, and..." Anger boiled hot in him, seeping into his every word. "They don't listen to what I have to say, in their eyes, I am but filth that walks their sacred land, a dangerous animal needed to be hunted down!" He knew he was letting the anger get the better of him, but it was too late to stop now. "All my life, I was regarded with nothing but looks of distrust and hatred! I hid from everyone and everything out of fear! So why-" There was so much more he wanted to say, so much more he needed to get out.

But it was all stopped as he was being crushed in yet another hug, feeling the anger dissolve into nothingness yet again, and instead, his eyes started to water. He wrapped his arms around both Kíli and Fíli, a sniffle breaking out of him. "So... why do you two not act the same?"

Kíli was the first to answer, breaking away from the hug to level Daenar with a fierce look. "You are our friend, Garrett. You saved my life, for crying out loud! Why would we be afraid of you?"

"But..."

"I do not care who or what you are," supplied Fíli firmly. "All I need to see is the kindness and strength you carry in your heart. You are a good person, Garrett, and you do not deserve to be called such ugly words." The dwarf crossed his arms over his chest, huffing. "Those people are just a bunch of jackasses."

That left Daenar stunned. Of all the things he expected them to say, calling the people who insulted him a 'bunch of jackasses' certainly wasn't one of them. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You heard me, a bunch of jackasses," repeated Fíli. "Idiots."

"Yeah," joined Kíli. "Some morons they are."

Smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as the two exchanged a mischievous smirk, before starting to name every insult they knew, from 'jerks', over 'cretins', going as far as 'assholes'. They continued like that for at least half a minute, looking entirely too smug for the fact that the only thing coming out of their mouths were insults. By the end of their shenanigans, Daenar had what to do to hold in the laughter that threatened to burst out of him.

"Does your uncle know you have such a wide vocabulary in terms of insults?", he huffed out on a laugh, holding his abdomen and wiping away the few tears that gathered in the corners of his eyes.

It seemed both princes were happy to see him in a good mood. "No, and I'd rather it stayed that way," Kíli threatened halfheartedly.

"Only if you don't tell anyone about this. About me." He wiped under his eyes, then looked alternately between the both of them, attempting a serious face but failing miserably, as his smile betrayed him. "Especially not your uncle."

"It seems we have a common enemy," joked Fíli, then raised a hand. "I promise."

"Your secret is safe with us," announced the other prince.

Daenar's smile widened. For the first time in forever, he felt like he belonged. "Then we have a deal."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some character study and much needed background, I'm sorry if this was a bit of a boring read, or if it is a little too... cheesy, let's say? Anyway, the next chapter should be more interesting, I promise! >.<
> 
> Also, I'm sorry for the late update. As I've already posted on Tumblr, I've been pretty busy lately, and things don't look like they are to get easier in the days to come, so this is just a heads up that I will probably not be putting out the next chapters as quickly as I would like to, either.


	4. Rivendell

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 **Chapter 4**  
**Rivendell**

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He didn't like it. There was a feeling deep in his guts telling him that something was wrong, or was about to get wrong, as they stepped out of the forest onto an open space, after almost two months of traveling in relative safety of the trees' shade. Gandalf was deep in conversation with his fellow Istari Radagast, who was getting on Thorin's nerves since the moment he appeared. Then again, just about anything could get him on edge these days, even though he tried his very best to stay calm.

From the corner of his eye, he glimpsed Garrett running towards them from deep within the forest - he could tell it was the wolf because of the bright yellow eyes. It caused the corner of his mouth to twitch a little, but the smile was repressed quickly. The two of them learned to cooperate better over the past few weeks - as they should've since the beginning, but then again, he could only blame himself for how things were between them at the start. At that time, he was simply too stubborn and prideful to admit his wrong judgment - which he still was, but at least with the wolf, he managed to somehow... shift the point of view, telling everybody that what they had wasn't a friendship, but merely an unspoken agreement to work together on behalf of the Company's wellbeing.

The reality was, of course, different. He started feeling more and more relaxed with the animal by his side, and even knew why. Thorin has already spent enough time with the wolf to break down its personality, and came to a conclusion that the two of them weren't at all that different. The wolf didn't talk too much (obviously), although it was able to convey emotions in different ways, and from the interactions between them and his observations on how it acted amongst others, he could tell the wolf was pretty reserved and liked its own personal space - the only exception being his nephews, with who it seemed to have bonded quite strongly, but interactions with other members were still kept very brief.

This time, though, there was no comfort accompanying the wolf's presence. Thorin could feel the panic coming out of the wolf even before it got to them. As soon as it did, it started growling and pacing, never coming to a stop. The animal was clearly on edge about something. Others ceased their conversations too, all eyes on the wolf now. "Thorin," said Bilbo, making him turn towards the hobbit with a clenched jaw. Of course his apprehensions would come true. Bilbo was holding his sword, one of those they found in the cave near where they fought the trolls, and the blade was pulsating with a soft blue glow.

"Orcs." There was no doubt about it. Just that one word was enough to set everyone to a full battle mode. Well, everyone except for Bilbo, who looked like he would piss his pants the moment the orcs appeared, but that was to be expected.

A hand landed on his shoulder, and in the next moment, Thorin found himself face to face with Gandalf. "I know of a place where we will be safe," said the wizard hurriedly. Thorin could only nod in approval, they needed to get away from here as soon as possible, it didn't matter where. If the Istari was confident this place of his could provide them with shelter, then so be it. Gandalf got on his horse and turned to the others, who were already seated, beckoning them to follow his lead. "I know where we can hide, follow me!" Radagast immediately offered to distract the orcs and lead them away from the Company, which Gandalf refused at first, saying it was too risky. However, Radagast insisted that his rabbits were faster than the orcs' wargs, and was even more hellbent on proving it. Gandalf had no other choice but to let his friend try pulling this risky plan, although he visibly wasn't happy about it. Thorin, too, had his doubts, but he was in no place to judge - and his companions were of a stronger concern to him, anyway. Trusting Gandalf's word, they rushed over the plains closely behind the wizard. The plains, however, much to Thorin's dismay, provided next to no cover, and the orcs spotted them sooner than expected. Thorin stayed at the back of the group, to help others if necessary. Kíli managed to shoot some of their chasers down, but there were simply too many of them for the young dwarf to take them all out. For a brief moment, he realized he couldn't find the wolf anywhere, but quickly put it out of his mind - the animal was surely fine. There were more critical things to be worried about right at the moment. The orcs were closing in on them rather fast on their wargs, so much so that Thorin was convinced they couldn't avoid a direct fight.

Just as that thought went through his head, a warg appeared on top of a rocky wall to their left. It raised its gruesome head and howled, a raspy, bone-chilling sound, before diving down on them. It chose the wrong target, though, because Bifur had his spear ready, plunging it into the monster. He was forced to leave the spear inside the warg, but Bofur, who rode behind his cousin, managed to rip it out and threw it back to him.

"Where is this place of yours, mister Gandalf?" shouted Ori with a touch of panic.

"We are not far from it, speed up!"

Thorin sure as hell hoped the wizard was right, because their enemies were right on their tail.

As if the world was playing some awful game with him, an arrow whizzed by, immediately followed by another. The first two, luckily, didn't hit, but the third one did. One moment, he was fine, and the next, he found himself falling to the ground as his horse fell down as well, dead on the spot. With head still shaken from the fall, he scrambled up, finding out that the orcs shot the animal to the head. There was no other choice, he had to run on his own legs. Someone shouted his name from the front, but he was too busy avoiding an incoming attack, before slicing the orc's throat.

Dwalin was immediately by his side, along with Kíli, who shot an approaching orc right between the eyes. A good shot, but Thorin was still not pleased. "Go, you have to get to safety!" he ordered his nephew right before having to block a warg who leapt at him, with his oak shield. He got tackled to the ground, the monstrosity trashing its head with teeth deep in the wood. It didn't take long before there was an axe splitting its head, and its body fell limplessly to the ground, luckily not crushing him under its weight as he quickly rolled away.

"We're not leavin' ya behind, ya dimwit!" He took Dwalin's offered hand, letting the dwarf pull him up.

"Here, you fools!"

Thorin looked to where Gandalf's voice came from. The wizard was waving at them from behind a big boulder, not too far from them. "Run!" he ordered the other two, who didn't have to be told twice before sprinting in Gandalf's direction. They ran as fast as they could, but Thorin saw a warg approaching, and stopped, shouting to get its attention. The warg caught his bait, changing its course towards him. He heard Dwalin call his name, and, without looking over, answered while getting ready for the clash. "I'll diverse its attention, go!"

"Thorin!" came Dwalin's voice again, this time obviously furious.

"I'll be fine!", he bit out, perhaps too irritatedly. "Get Kíli to safety! That's an order!" He couldn't say much more, because then there was a big beast leaping on him. He dodged to the side, attempting to slash at his enemy, but his attack missed as the warg dodged back. They danced around eachother like that for a few moments, before he managed to land a blow onto its muzzle. The warg growled angrily, but stood in place, blocking his path to the rest of the group. It was at that moment he realized its true intentions - to separate him from the rest. He had to end the fight quickly.

Just as he was preparing to attack, Thorin noticed, out of the corner of his eyes, another warg coming his way. Gritting his teeth, he released a flurry of attacks that had a single purpose - to cut through the enemy, either make it relent or kill it. It took him longer than he cared to admit before managing to plunge his sword into the warg's side. His breath began to be heavy, sweat dripping down his forehead, but he felt no exhaustion, as adrenaline was pumping in his veins.

 _The other warg_ , flashed through his head. He quickly went to take his sword out of the warg's body. However, it wouldn't budge, stuck inside. He could hear the other monster approaching, the ugly growl and the trample of its feet, and started sharply yanking, to no avail.

Thorin could only mumble a silent prayer to Mahal, as he readied himself for a fight he had no chance of winning. He looked over just to see his enemy's ugly teeth being bared at him, and raised his shielded hand to at least survive the first attack.

However, it never came. Thorin only saw a shadow fly through the air, which crashed into his enemy and knocked it to the ground. Looking over, caught by surprise, his eyes met with Garrett's. He nodded at him in thanks, before turning back to his sword. The weapon only needed few more pulls to get released. In the next moment, the wolf was next to him, lifting him up in its mouth and throwing him behind itself, onto its own back. Thorin barely managed to grasp the fur before Garrett broke into a sprint yet again. It took all of Thorin's strength to keep himself from falling off. Arrows started flying around them, but it didn't stop Garrett at all. At one point, Thorin heard the wolf release a whine, but he was too occupied by keeping himself from falling to pay it any mind, and in the next moment, they were falling down a hole, the crash knocking the air out of his lungs.

His head was ringing, and he allowed himself to simply lie on the ground for a moment, taking in a few deep breaths. There were immediately hands on him, inspecting him for any wound. "I'm fine," Thorin grumbled through clenched teeth. "Just, a little, ugh, shaken." Óin still continued to inspect him, obviously not trusting him on the matter. Thorin, the stubborn idiot he was, sat up to prove his point, grunting as he felt his side pulse with pain and vision blur for a second. However, it was then that he noticed everyone looking behind him, stunned expressions on their faces, some even with their mouths agape.

 _Garrett_. Ignoring his own injuries, he whipped up and turned, but paused when what greeted him wasn't what he expected. Gandalf was crouching by a human figure, worry etched into his eyes, furiously using all the magic he could. Kíli and Fíli were crouching on the other side, blocking Thorin's vision, but he could see them both shaking. On unsteady legs, he made his way over to them. He didn't know the man, but at the same time, he couldn't see the wolf anywhere around the cave, so there was only one explanation - which proved to be true when he heard Kíli pipe something about needing to get Garrett some help.

"W-what?", was all he could muster, gaping down at the unconscious man. He hit himself on the head, surely. He was knocked out from the impact when they fell, and this was all just a dream. A very weird dream.

Gandalf visibly didn't have the nerves or strength for explanations. "We have to get him to Rivendell, as soon as possible. He got shot by three arrows, and already lost a lot of blood."

"Rivendell?", Thorin spat out. He should've known what Gandalf meant by a 'safe place'. Thorin hated elves more than anything else, as they didn't help his race when Erebor was destroyed and they needed the help the most. However, looking at the man who was supposed to be Garrett, Thorin quickly schooled his expression and nodded, to which the wizard relaxed. That didn't mean he was fine with somebody playing with him, though. "Only for... Garrett's sake, though," he added, keeping his eyes on the person in question. He still couldn't wrap his head around it all, most importantly - why was this kept from them? How come Kíli and Fíli knew? Does Garrett not trust the rest of them? With head filled with questions, he brought his gaze up, looking at Gandalf. "And I demand some explanations later."

Kíli and Fíli carried the man in front of the group, almost running with how eager they were to get him to Rivendell as soon as possible. Thorin had what to do to repress the headache that threatened to take over his head from all the confusion. He was so out of it he didn't even notice them arriving at Rivendell's gates, Elrond meeting them himself. However, all greetings were cut short upon glimpsing the man in Fíli's and Kíli's arms, and hearing the pleading in Gandalf's voice as he was asking for the elf's help.

The company watched as Garrett was whisked away, Kíli and Fíli refusing to leave the man's side. Their horses have been taken to the stables, and he caught the elves say something about the animals needing some shoeing. The rest of them were taken to their own rooms in Elrond's huge residence. Everybody's mind was on the same thing, the usually talkative and cheerful group suddenly completely silent. It unnerved Thorin even further. He couldn't stand still for even a second, pacing around his room. When he was trying to get into Garrett's room, they sent him away, telling him they'd send somebody to inform him when he's allowed to come in. So he had no choice but wait. Thorin wasn't good at waiting. There were so many questions he needed an answer to, so many things he had to say to Garrett - once the cold anger coming from confusion subsided, he realized that, even if the man sort of kept them in a lie, he did save both his and Kíli's lifes by now, and helped all of them many times already. It still pained him that Garrett didn't open up to them about who he truly is, however, he no longer thought it was out of distrust. There had to be more to it, surely, but all that overthinking only served to make Thorin even more uptight.

It took almost an hour, an hour that nearly drove Thorin crazy, before Fíli and Kíli appeared in his room, both looking utterly exhausted - contrary to him, who was buzzing with curiosity. He motioned for them to sit with him, which they did, but he couldn't help but notice they looked like they were walking into the maw of a beast. It was then that Thorin realized his behaviour had an effect even on those he held dearest. Cursing himself inwardly, he sighed, and asked the first and most important question, voice so soft he surprised even himself for a second. "How is he?"

The brothers glanced at each other, before Kíli answered. "Lord Elrond says he's going to get out of it, but..."

"It will take just a few days for him to wake up," continued Fíli. "However, more than that to fully heal. Lord Elrond guessed at least a week after."

A sigh escaped him at the news. They both probably expected him to be angry, for having to stay that long, amongst elves on top of that. Instead, he surprised them when he nodded, not commenting on it any further. To be fair, they all needed a short break from the journey, the path awaiting them was only going to get harder from now on. However, he wasn't going to let the two go without getting at least a few answers to the most pressing questions. He cleared his throat, and crossed his arms. "Now, I believe you owe me some other answers, as well?"

Both princes shared a look again. Thorin was used to it, they were always doing that since they were little. He couldn't help but remember the many times they received scolding from their parents, or himself. It brought a momentary smile on his face. "We found out a few weeks ago," stated Fíli after a short while, breaking the silence.

From there, they told him exactly what happened that day by the pool, and by the end of the story, Thorin finally understood. He couldn't explain why, but when they were finished, he felt a little lighter, like a boulder fell from his shoulders. "So, you finding out was nothing but an accident?"

Kíli confirmed it with a nod. "Pretty much, yes."

"He seemed really scared..." Fíli's addition caught him off guard. It wasn't the sentence itself, but the tone of his nephew's voice, or the absent gaze he was aiming to somewhere behind Thorin, that made him worried. Before he could interpose, Fíli continued. "I saw it in his eyes then, by the lake. There was horror in them, so much horror that for a moment, I thought we did something horrible..." Thorin was about ready to stop Fíli, but like with a snap of a finger, the dwarf woke up from his trance, and when he met his eyes, he was back his old self again, only there was a touch of conviction underlying his tone. "It is my belief that there was an event in Garrett's past, or more events, where something bad happened upon others finding out about his closely kept secret. Which, in turn, makes him bent on hiding it, out of fear."

"Yeah, I sensed it, too..." added Kíli. He turned back to Thorin. "Uncle, we know you have to be angry, but I'm sure Garrett had a good reason to hide, it certainly wasn't out of distrust."

Thorin released a sigh. "I figured as much." He stood up and started pacing, making a show of thinking it through, even though he made his mind long ago. "Let us say that your reasons for keeping this from all of us were well-founded, given what you just told me. I am willing to look past that." An audible sigh came from the other two, but they quickly sat up as Thorin spoke again, raising his voice. "However, that doesn't mean I am entirely okay with how things went. I will ask Elrond to be notified whenever Garrett regains consciousness, him and I, we need to have a little exchange. This Company is built on trust, and I cannot allow him to travel with us any further if he doesn't trust us back."

They were both ready to say something, he could read that from the conflicted expressions on their faces, but in the end, they decided to keep their retorts to themselves, and were out the door in the next moment. Thorin understood their emotions - hell, even he himself felt the same. But where there was a seed of doubt, he couldn't simply look past it, there was too much at stake here. And, even if it pained him to admit it, right now, he couldn't trust Garrett, no matter how much he wanted to. It occurred to him that Gandalf had to have known, too - he suddenly felt so betrayed that it was hard to keep the anger from coming to the surface.

The conversation was sure to give him a lot to think about for the upcoming days, however, now he just found himself exhausted from all the drama of the day, and hungry. Thankfully, supper was being served soon, although Thorin was invited to dine with Elrond and Gandalf, even if he would very much rather stay with the rest of the company. Elrond was their host, so it would be rude to decline, and Gandalf - well, guess he just had to bite the bullet. Plus, although he wasn't looking forward to the idea of talking with either of them, at least he would be able to ask more about Garrett's condition. With that in mind, he begrudgingly left for the dinner.

Oh, he found out much more than that. Although Thorin was reluctant to show the elf the map at first, it lead to Elrond discovering that the map contained moon letters - rune letters that were only visible on the evening when there was a moon of the same shape and in the same season as the evening they were written. Luckily, the elven lord told them that he should be able to read them tonight, ending in them hurrying to catch the first moon light. The map read as follows: 'Five feet high the door and three may walk abreast, stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks, and the setting sun with the last light of Durin's day will shine upon the keyhole.'

It was a great discovery, even if it lead to Elrond finding out what was the purpose of their quest. However, contrary to what Thorin initially though, the elf said he won't stop them. Elrond, of course, expressed his disapproval, but said that there's no way to get some sense to the thick heads of dwarves, and so, if nothing else, he would supply them properly for their journey. Thorin didn't know what to make of it, but he wasn't so dumb to reject the offer.

Even over the good news, he couldn't sleep that night. The next day, he joined the company for breakfast and lunch, but didn't show up for dinner anymore. Instead, he opted to wander around the gardens, deep in his thoughts again. The whole thing about Garrett gave him no rest, which, combined with no news about the man's condition, frankly made him worry. Balin found him at some point, concerned. However, Thorin brushed all his concerns off, saying he was fine. Balin didn't look convinced, but let it slide anyway, which he was thankful for.

The day after, during lunch, Thorin found his gloomy mood elevate with the company's yet again cheerful one, despite the mess that was his mind. A servant came for Fíli and Kíli near the end, at which Thorin perked up, together with the rest of the company. He waited in his room, but was disappointed when Gandalf came over to tell him Garrett was still too exhausted and needed to rest. At least they confirmed that the man will be fine, though.

He skipped dinner that night again, not feeling that hungry and simply wanting to be left alone after several hours of planning with Balin. It was already pretty cold and dark when he left his room, heading towards the park surrounding Elrond's residence. He took slow strides, taking in all the decorative stunted trees shaped into various animals, the flowers of all known colours and shapes, the seemingly endless number of ponds elves were so obsessed with. It wasn't anything he was used to, or anything he would like to see every day, but there was no denying that the place emitted peace and quiet. Which is what he found himself craving these days, what with everything that happened and what still awaited them.

He was so captivated by looking around that he didn't see a person sitting by a tree with their back to him, until Thorin found himself only a few feet away, coming to a halt. His eyes widened when he realized who he ran into.

Garrett was leaning his whole body back on the trunk, head slightly tilted to the side. Thorin silently crept around until he was standing in front of the man, and it was then that he noticed his eyes were closed, mouth slightly parted. Combined with his serene expression, there was no doubt the man was in a light slumber, probably lulled to sleep by the calmness of the place. Making use of the situation, Thorin took in the man's appearance. Messy black hair was swept back, some streaks still poking out in random places, waving in the air as the cool night breeze was gently swinging them from side to side. He had a neatly trimmed beard, a soft smile hiding beneath, and sharp cheekbones which were even more prominent under the light of the moon.

Thorin took a while to look over all of Garrett's features, until the man involuntary shivered in his sleep. He crouched down next to the man, shaking his shoulders. Garrett woke up with a jerk, unfocused eyes searching around until they landed on Thorin's, golden locking with blue. Garrett's eyes went wide when the realization kicked in. Thorin noticed the man only had a dark shirt with trousers of the same colour on, both ornamented in elven style, but there was no coat or anything warm. Seeing that, Thorin shrugged off his cape and wrapped it around Garrett's shoulders, who regarded him with a dumbfounded look, raising a single brow. "You were shivering," Thorin grumbled in an answer to the man's unspoken question, cursing himself inwardly a second later. How was he at a loss for words? It frustrated him greatly.

Garrett continued to stare for a moment longer, dumbfounded, until a hint of a smile appeared as he hugged the coat closer to himself. "Uh, thank you."

The shiver that ran through his whole body was definitely because of the cold wind he was suddenly exposed to, not the other man's deep voice, still husky from sleep. He stood up again, crossing his arms for the lack of knowing what to do with them. He didn't remember ever being so nervous about talking to a person. Well, at least he wasn't barking orders at him, so, suppose it wasn't the worst it could get. "Shouldn't you be resting?"

Garrett leaned back against the tree, closing his eyes yet again. "I just wanted to get some fresh air." The momentary pained frown that flashed across the man's face didn't go unnoticed by Thorin, who immediately asked if he wasn't in pain. "No, it's just the wounds, they make sure to remind me of themselves everytime I move, but it's not as bad as I thought." He wiggled a little, making space next to himself for Thorin to sit, who took the offered space without a question. "Elrond did a pretty good job of patching me up." Thorin only hummed in response. They sat like that for a moment, the tension in the air almost palpable. Thorin tensed even further as he felt his cloak being wrapped around his shoulders, glancing at Garrett confusedly. The man gave him a warm smile, saying that the cloak was big enough for the both of them. Another pause followed, which was again broken by Garrett. "Now, I'm sure you have a lot of questions..."

Thorin cleared his throat, putting on a serious face. "You and I," he started, looking over, only for his gaze to be met with Garrett's, whose expression was just as serious. "We need to have a talk."

 

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To be fair, Daenar expected this conversation to go way worse. For starters, Thorin seemed to be fairly calm about everything, which truly surprised him. When he woke up, the first thing that ran through his head - apart from the numbed pain and the strange buzzing after some painkilling liquid was shoved down his throat - was how angry Thorin and the others, but mainly Thorin, had to be, and how will he ever explain himself. But now, even if he was sure Thorin will inevitably ask for the explanation, Daenar found himself surprised how well the dwarf was taking it. Of course, he had no choice but to agree to Thorin's questioning, but he didn't truly mind all that much - for now. The first question was, luckily, an easy one.

"Where were you during the fight?"

He looked up to the sky, leaning even more heavily on the tree in an attempt to find a more comfortable position. "I figured you could take care of the wargs, so I made it my priority to take out the archers. Things could've gone go badly if you were showered with arrows, and there weren't many sufficient covers to shield you."

Thorin seemed to be satisfied with that answer, if the dwarf's silence was anything to go by. He felt the dwarf stir beside him, probably thinking his next question through. Even this time, it wasn't the one Daenar anticipated the most. "What has lead you to decide on helping us, to join the Company?"

He decided to keep it simple, giving a little shrug. "Gandalf asked me to."

"That is not what I would consider a good enough reason." Thorin didn't sound exactly amused. In fact, quite the opposite, even though he seemed to be as uncomfortable with the conversation as him. Daenar swallowed heavily, refusing to look over, as the dwarf turned to face him properly. "I understand there are things you do not want to reveal, especially not to me."

The last line was unexpected. He sat up again, looking over at his company. "That is not-"

"-However, I've explained this to both Kíli and Fíli, and now I'm saying it to you." The deep blue of Thorin's eyes seemed impenetrable, like an ocean during a storm. It further added to the serious element of the situation. "I cannot trust you to be a part of the Company, if you cannot reciprocate the feeling."

His heart sank low upon hearing he still didn't have Thorin's trust. Then again, nothing was that simple with this dwarf in particular, that much he already knew. "I understand you wish to know why." He lowered his gaze again, and kept his eyes firmly on the ground while swallowing past the lump that formed in his throat. "Why I denied you the truth." Thorin sat unmoving, providing no answer at all. Daenar could feel the stare burn through him like a bitter accusation, like a dare. "To tell you the truth, I was - still am - scared. You... you seem to have taken this whole, shapeshifting thing, pretty damn okay, and I'm really thankful for that." His voice betrayed him with the next sentence, breaking into a hushed tone as the memories so clearly imprinted in his mind began playing out in front of him. "But not everyone is of the same opinion. The last time this was discovered, I lost my mother, and gained this ugly scar over my nose." His confidence crumbled as he recalled the searing fire and accusing looks, the bitter taste of his own blood on his tongue, the light stab in his abdomen and strange dream he fell into shortly afterwards. Daenar found it hard to breathe, lungs painfully squeezed and mouth dry. "I do not expect you to understand. The way they look at you. Like... like a monster," he breathed out. "This never had anything to do with trust."

Time felt like it stretched forever, even though it surely were mere seconds before an answer came from the dwarf. "I figured as much."

"What?" Mind suddenly riddled with confusion, his eyes found Thorin's again. There was no more ice in his gaze, which calmed Daenar's worries slightly.

"You saved both Kili's and my life by now. I have no reason to question your degree of trustworthiness."

Gears started turning in his head as he tried his best to process Thorin's words. "Wait, what you're saying is, you didn't doubt me? So, this whole conversation...?" He felt played, which hurt him more than he would ever dare admit. It had to show on his face, because Thorin's expression faltered again and he averted his gaze.

Thorin worked his jaw for a second before giving an answer. "As I said, I had no reason to distrust you. However, perhaps selfishly, I wanted to know where you stand on the matter, and when you gave me such a vague answer, I..." Thorin shut his mouth quickly, putting a stop to his rambling. Daenar watched with anticipation as the dwarf took a deep breath and looked back at him. "Perhaps I have stepped out of line; I owe you an apology."

The sincerity in the other's eyes was yet again enough to raise his dampened mood. Damn, he could swear those two orbs were hypnotic, able to tell much more than the rest of Thorin's face. Maybe it was because you couldn't exactly trick them, the same way one can learn to control their facial expressions. He found himself smiling lightly - perhaps in his head, he made this bigger than it actually was. "No, no you were right to question me and my motives." He eased his body back against the tree, letting out a breath. "There is a lot relying on your judgment, I would expect nothing less from you, as our leader, than to be cautious." Thorin didn't respond, but it didn't go unnoticed by Daenar how the tension slowly slipped away from the air. Despite that, he fidgeted in his spot before asking the next question on his mind. "Does that mean I get to stay?"

Thorin's voice carried a hint of nervosity. "I would be glad if you did, though I do not want to force you."

"You won't have to," he said. "What of the rest of the Company, though?" Glancing over, he found that Thorin's face was like a big question mark, so Daenar quickly set to elaborate. "Do they feel the same?"

Thorin took a moment to think over his answer. "Well, I can't speak for all of them, but I reckon they do not truly mind. Sure, they were shocked at first, we all were, but it is also evident you meant no ill. They simply don't understand why all the secrecy, that is all."

Thorin's words at least slightly set his mind to ease. He let his eyes close, and left his thoughts run free along with his mouth. "I understand their disconcertment. And, I admit it wasn't the best way I could handle the situation. Maybe at the beginning, sure, it might've been excusable, but I've known you all for a long time already, long enough that I should have known to trust you with this." A light cold breeze wafted through the air, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up, but he paid it no attention. The primary goal of his at that moment was to assort his train of thoughts as best he could and put it into words. "Yet I still couldn't," came out of him on a whisper. "No matter how confident I am, no matter how determined I might be, there is always that one part of my brain that quietly whispers, 'what if they don't accept you?', 'what if you lose them?'. I gave up on ever trying to get too attached to people because of this gripping, ungodly fear of rejection."

Thorin sat silently, unmoving. For a moment, Daenar wondered if the dwarf was still present - but then he realized the heat next to him didn't disappear. Thorin was still here, just sitting, and listening to what he had to say. Daenar gulped, before continuing. "You know, I always tell myself, what would've been if I had done something different that day. Was there something I could do? Would she still be here if things went down differently? Could I have saved her? But the more I think about it, the more I fall into a state of hopelessness and despair."

A few seconds after Daenar's speech came to a halt, Thorin finally spoke - and it wasn't what Daenar expected. "I'm sorry," were the first words. "For your loss." Thorin's voice was uncharacteristically soft, and grew more and more distant the longer he carried on talking. "Sometimes, bad things happen to us, and there isn't a way we can stop them. Sometimes, there is no way to fight back - just watch as our world crumbles in front of our eyes."

Sensing the sadness in Thorin's voice, Daenar opened his eyes again. He found that Thorin was looking up into the star-filled sky, and the first thing that went through his mind was that the dwarf had to be remembering something, too. Daenar couldn't tear his eyes from his face. He was used to seeing Thorin with permanent scowl plastered on, stern and bossy. This was new; the whole night, the dwarf seemed like a completely different person.

He let Thorin continue. "Everybody has a demon inside, a memory of a tragic event, something they're ashamed of, or something they fear being brought up to the surface, striving to push the memories of the past as far down their mind so as to make them disappear." Thorin huffed a short, humorless laugh. It sounded so strained and sad, not the kind of laugh Daenar found he wanted to hear. "But they never do. They will always reside back there, in the deepest pit of your mind, making themselves known each time you feel like you're finally fine and content in the present."

Before he knew it, Thorin looked back down, and their eyes locked. He would swear he saw a glimmer of empathy in the blue of Thorin's eyes. At that moment, he knew - that the person in front of him, the one he would swear hated his guts at the beginning, understood him in the way not many others could. It hit him that, like Thorin, he also didn't know much about the person he was sitting next to. Hell, he didn't truly know much about this seemingly mad quest he blindly threw himself into, only the bare bones of it. He never had the chance to ask, and nobody truly ever thought to share. Perhaps... perhaps if he was enlightened on the matter, he would be able to decipher what it is that sparked this sort of mutual understanding. With that, a new urge sparked to life inside him.

However, his resolve ebbed away again as Thorin averted his eyes, pulling Daenar back into reality. "It is getting pretty late," came from the dwarf, as he began standing up. "We should head back inside."

Daenar blinked once, twice, then, seemingly realizing Thorin was probably waiting for a reply, cleared his throat. Despite all his effort to come up with what to say, his brain could only really supply a dumb "yeah." He suddenly became aware of how heavy his limbs were, along with his eyelids, as he tried to focus his attention on some object lying between two flower bushes not too far from his position.

Thorin regarded him with a sympathetic look. "You look tired," he said softly with a touch of concern.

"Mmhm, I guess I am," came Daenar's reply after an exhausted sigh. He crossed his arms and leaned back yet again, closing his eyes, fully content on drifting off to sleep right on the spot.

"That is not surprising, considering the injuries you sustained. Your body needs to rest more than normally. Sleep is the-"

"-The best medicine," he interrupted the dwarf. "Yeah, yeah, I know." He lost the count of how many times he has heard that sentence in his life, but there was something amusing about hearing it from Thorin. A smile crept onto his face, and he opened his eyes again. "You sound like Gandalf." One of Thorin's eyebrows shot up, but as quickly as it did, it also dropped back down. The dwarf extended a hand down towards him, palm up, in a clear invitation. Daenar suddenly recalled the sole reason of why he ended up stranded in here in the first place. A strong urge to laugh threatened to overcome him, but he suppressed it, as it would only serve to irritate his still very much not healed injuries. Instead, he only scratched behind his neck, feeling an embarrassed flush creep to his cheeks. "I, ah..." Why did it feel like he was apologizing for some childish mischief? "I can't. Stand up, I mean."

Thorin's expression was that of a pure confusion. "Huh?"

He decided to just be honest. "Well, I went out for a stroll, the stubborn idiot that I am, despite my body protesting against every step, and I took a break here, by this tree, but when I attempted to stand up again..." He winced as he recalled the pain, and put a hand on his abdomen, where the worst wound was. "Well, I've managed to stand up, but that was about as far as I got."

The chuckle caught him off guard. His eyes shot to Thorin, who seemed mighty amused, the bastard. He even wore a smirk as he looked down at him with arms folded over his chest. "You are truly incredible." Before Daenar could muster up a retort, he bent down. "Hold onto me, then." The dwarf hooked an arm under his, and all Daenar could do was release an embarrassing yelp as he was being pulled up. Thorin quickly threw Daenar's arm over his shoulders, and put a hand on his hip to secure him, mindful not to touch any injured area. "Seriously, how did you manage to get this far in the first place?"

It took a moment for Daenar to gather his bearings, panting just from the effort of standing, alone - even with support. "By sheer determination and power of will," he managed to get out between heavy breaths. "I sneaked out of my room, so nobody even knows I'm gone, probably. If they haven't checked on me yet, that is." He felt more than saw Thorin shake his head in disbelief, starting to lead him ever so slowly back towards one of the mansion's many entrances.

"You shouldn't strain yourself that much when you just woke up. Next time you want to go outside, just ask somebody for help. I'm sure there'll always be someone willing to accompany you." The dwarf kept his eyes on the road, squinting through the dark so they didn't bump into anything.

"Yeah, yeah," he grunted. Soon enough, their path became illuminated as they got to the mansion. Upon entering the building, they found it to be pretty empty. At least, he thought, there was a high probability that his escape hasn't yet been discovered. They walked the hallways in silence, only interrupted by Daenar's heavy pants. He felt completely and utterly exhausted by the time they got to the door to his room, and felt bad as he had to lean more weight on Thorin. He apologized for that, but Thorin simply waved it away.

He spent the whole way here thinking his question through. What Thorin said gave him an idea, but he didn't know how to form his request so it didn't sound obtrusive or needy. But when Thorin pushed the door open, leading him inside and towards his bed, he knew he didn't have much more time. His thoughts began whirling about even as Thorin helped him up into the bed - damn elves and their high beds - and the arm around his back disappeared.

Despite the disarray that was his mind, Daenar sighed contently when he was sitting again, murmuring a 'thank you'.

"Will you be all right here? Should I call for someone?"

"No, I'll be fine, thank you." He fiddled with his thumbs, unable to bring himself to say more.

Thorin stood watching him for a second, before releasing a breath. "Right. I will be going, then. Good night, Garrett."

As the dwarf turned to leave, Daenar grabbed for his sleeve in panic. "Wait!" Startled, Thorin jumped as he turned back, obviously not expecting such action. Daenar paled and withdrew his hand, mouth opening and closing as he tried to scramble for something to say. He realized he still had Thorin's cape draped over his shoulders, and shrugged it off, handing it to the dwarf with a nervous smile. "I, um, your cape..." Thorin stared at the item with furrowed brows for a moment, before relaxing and taking it with a thanks. As soon as Daenar's hands were free again, he began fumbling with his fingers again. This time, though, he found the courage to speak. "Listen, there is something I wanted to ask you, if I can? A favor, if you will."

Thorin's answer came without hesitation. "Of course."

Daenar took a deep breath, speaking right after the exhale. "I've realized that I... I don't know much about you. I mean dwarves, your customs, and Erebor, I was only told the basics, enough to understand the purpose of this particular venture. And, since we will still most likely spend quite some time together, I was thinking if you would be willing to, well, tell me more?" He chanced a glance at the dwarf, finding him watching him with a look he couldn't quite place. It unnerved him slightly. "Of course, if you don't want to, or won't have time, it's fine, I can just ask somebody else, I guess, maybe Ori-"

"-No, it is fine."

Both his speech and the movement of his fingers stopped abruptly, as he stared up at Thorin with something akin to hope.

What he didn't know was that Thorin found his sudden timidity very amusing. Or, it might've been the child-like spark in his eyes that made the dwarf struggle to keep his composure. "You are willing to risk your life in order to help us reclaim our home, you should know what you're fighting for, I think we owe you at least that much." It was certainly worth the smile it brought onto Daenar's lips as he nodded. Thorin couldn't stop the corners of his mouth from curling up a bit, as well. "For now, though, you should rest already, no more prolonging."

Daenar didn't really object, feeling the exhaustion in his bones slowly win over him. They exchanged their last goodnights, and he watched as Thorin's back disappeared behind the door, closing it with a click. He lied down on his back with a huff, mindful of his injuries, and continued to stare up into the ceiling, going over the night's encounter. His eyes fluttered shut, and he let himself drift off with heart at peace, and the ghost of a smile on his face.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you mean, consistent update schedule?  
> I know of no such thing :^)
> 
> Edit: I'm not dead, just busy. If you have any questions or ideas you want to share with me, feel free to ask, you can catch me on my Tumblr at https://arnir-ryxx.tumblr.com/. I'll try to reply as soon as possible. ;^)


	5. Licking The Wounds

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**Chapter 5**  
**Licking The Wounds**

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Thank god Elrond was finally leaving. He appreciated the elf's concern, but his fussing around him could get a bit irritating after a while. The whole morning, they tortured him with various types of healing teas, potions, ointments and god knows what. By the end of it, Daenar was so close to screaming in frustration, but he knew they only wanted to help, so he bore through it all.

However, it didn't take long for him to find out that they weren't quite finished yet. Lunch was again a mixture of shades of green - served with, of course, more medicine! It all tasted just as it sounds, that is, either completely bland, which was the better option, or absolutely and utterly disgusting. He desperately needed to get outside again, as the smell of all things medical, which the room was filled with - even over opened windows, was slowly driving him crazy.

It wasn't until after most of the healing things were consumed and procedures finished, and Daenar's insistence that he felt pretty well, all things considered, that he was allowed to have visitors. The anxiety was still there, but he would rather not prolong the inevitable, plus it wasn't like anybody was being forced to visit him.

He was glad Bilbo came by first. The hobbit was all smiles since he entered the door - a little strained at first, sure, but after a few initial nervous stutters on both sides, they managed to engage in a pretty, dare he say, normal conversation. He already knew the halfling liked to read, so he used this knowledge to his advantage - Gandalf had a way of always being able to supply him with an interesting book to read, meaning he has read quite a lot in his life, it was one of his favourite hobbies. After saying so, Bilbo seemed to immediately get into his element, asking about what genres he liked, favourite authors and other things revolving around literature. He even ran off to bring a book he finished reading recently, saying it quickly became one of his favourites, and upon hearing that Daenar hasn't yet read or even heard about it, he immediately decided that such an error had to be fixed quickly and lent him the book, practically shoving it into his hands. Daenar was reluctant at first - after all, the hobbit did just say how great a book it was, and such things are to be treasured, and lending them away is often quite a risk - but Bilbo simply laughed it off, insisting he will at least have someone to discuss the story with. Touched by the other's trust, Daenar thanked the hobbit, promising to keep the book safe and give it back soon.

Bilbo left just before the arrival of another two guests, Kíli and Fíli, who, bless those two, snuck him in some ham, which he consumed in record time - much to the amusement of the two brothers. They were the only two members of the Company who already knew about his secret before this incident, so he actually felt more confident in their presence. Plus, witnessing Kili's exuberance paired with his brother's calmer yet still mischievous nature, that was something he could get used to. Those two rascals never failed to disappoint in finding a way to entertain him; even on their journey, whenever they could, they made sure to involve him in their colourful conversations, and made him actually feel like he was a part of it despite his inability to speak. Those moments only grew once they knew he was a human. He refused to play a part in their pranks, it wasn't in his nature even if it was all just for laughs, but they didn't have it against him, Kíli simply waved it off as 'him not knowing what fun is' and Fíli seemed like he was on one hand with his brother, but the other half of him agreed with Daenar that it might be a little immature behaviour. Nevertheless, Fíli most of the time ended up being Kíli's sidekick anyway, and Daenar observed from a distance. Secretly, he found it very funny when they were getting scolded by Thorin afterwards. Not that he would enjoy the sight of them looking shamefully to the ground or anything, it was simply because there was something hilarious at seeing the ever-composed Thorin almost pulling out his hair in frustration, giving the two of them a piece of his mind. He pitied the two brothers during those moments, but then again, it wasn't like they didn't know what they were getting themselves into in the first place.

Speaking of Thorin, Fíli told him about their conversation with the dwarf, that they spoke up for him, and Thorin seemed uncharacteristically calm about the whole thing, so there probably was nothing to be worried about. Of course Daenar couldn't tell them he already had the pleasure of talking to their leader, he would rather keep that to himself, as he expected the other to do as well. However, the comment made his mind go back to the previous night again, wondering when would Thorin come by and deliver on his promise - he never actually specified _when_ he would do so. His visitors picked up on his moment of daydreaming rather quickly, though, and broke him out of his reverie, so he didn't get to ponder on the question any further. That was probably for the better, to be perfectly honest. He needed to learn to give things a free flow.

After the two princes left, came the harder part. Word got around pretty fast, and with Bilbo and the two already having visited him, there was no doubt the others had to know they were allowed to visit, too. Really, he thought only a few would come, maybe not even that.

He didn't have the slightest clue how wrong he was.

First came Óin. Daenar stiffened as soon as the door creaked open and the dwarf announced his presence, and from what he could see, the feeling was mutual. However, with a few wide strides, the dwarf was next to his bed, where Daenar already sat up, not knowing what else to do. He attempted a smile, but it was a very tight-lipped smile, and he quickly opted to just looking to the ground, not knowing what to say or do. Óin noticed, though, and with a sigh, continued to prepare for what he came here to do in the first place. "You don't have to feel ashamed, not in front of me." To that, Daenar looked up, noticing Óin was taking out his equipment - bowls, mortar and pestle, herb satchels, and others - and placing them on the bed in a neat row. Before he could ask what was happening, the dwarf continued while taking out a herb from one of the satchels and starting to break it into dust using the mortar and pestle with practiced quickness. "Most of us forgave you right away, some took some time to come in terms with it but they came around too." He added a different herb into the mix, resuming the process.

Daenar's mouth opened and closed a few times before he managed to actually speak. "I- what?" It was like the dwarf didn't hear him, which was when Daenar remembered Óin's bad hearing. He tapped the other's shoulder, and as Óin brought up his gaze, he pointed to his own years to try and tell the dwarf to take out his trusty trumpet.

Used to such situations, Óin immediately knew what Daenar was asking about. "Oh, sorry, just wait a moment." The dwarf tapped the pestle over the mortar's edge, then fished a small water skin from his belt and added everything into one of the bowls, mixing it again. Once done, he finally took out the makeshift ear trumpet - although at this point he probably already had no desire to change the item for anything else anymore. "Nobody is angry at you, maybe save for Dwalin but he never was very trustful, and he especially distrusts magic." Pausing in thought, the dwarf looked him in the eyes. "It is magic, isn't it? I can't imagine it being anything else." But he gave him no room to answer, sticking the bowl with his mix in front of his face. "Drink this."

Gingerly, Daenar took the bowl. "Oh, I've had enough of these today already, I don't think-"

"- I don't trust elven medicine, not one bit. Drink that - don't worry, it shouldn't taste as awful as most of the goo they can produce, I've mixed in some berries." Truly, the smell wasn't half bad, certainly better than all the previous medicine he's been given. He still grimaced as he took a gulp, the taste was a little bit more on the bitter side, but it was washed away by the sweet taste of the berries as soon as he swallowed the mouthful. Upon finishing the bowl, Óin took it from him, giving a nod in return to Daenar's thanks. "Come to think of it, magic or not, it doesn't really matter. It's not my place to prod into such things."

A series of 'oofs' sounded from the direction of the room's entrance. Daenar whipped his head towards the door, but Óin wasn't at all startled by the sounds - it almost seemed like he anticipated them. A few dwarves stumbled into the room through the door, Kíli in the front, sending a curse at somebody behind himself as soon as he regained balance. Daenar sat, frozen on the spot, watching with heart feeling like it wants to jump out of his ribcage as more and more of them filled into the room. They stood there, some shy, some with excitement in their eyes, only Dwalin looking around grumpily. Kíli jogged to Daenar's side, all smiles. "Garrett, everybody came to see you, look!" He made to help him stand up, but luckily, Óin had enough common sense in him to stop Kíli by slapping his hand away.

"Have you gone mad?! He still isn't in a perfect condition, want to reopen his wounds?!"

At Óin's stern tone, Daenar finally managed to grasp enough willpower to at least get out of his dazed state. He turned to the older dwarf, attempting a faint smile. "It- it is fine, Óin, really."

"No, lad, I think Óin is right, we should not make you strain yourself yet." Surprised by the chirpy tone, Daenar brought his gaze to the speaker, who now stood in front of him with the biggest grin one could imagine. Bofur performed an overdramatized bow, taking off his hat as well, revealing an even more unkempt patch of hair than the mess that was his hair normally. Ever the jester, he gave Daenar a wink, then straightened back up, putting his precious headwear back in its place. "I think I can speak for everybody when I say it is a pleasure to finally meet the man behind the mask. Now, you may already know my name, but under the current circumstances, I believe it only right to introduce ourselves anew." Daenar wondered how long he had to have been preparing this speech for, as that certainly wasn't the way he normally spoke. However, when the dwarf spoke next, while extending his hand towards him, the Bofur he knew was back in place. "I'm Bofur, the charmer of the group."

A few scoffs and chuckles followed, but Daenar paid them no mind. He took the dwarf's hand, shaking it only a little as his injuries, albeit numbed, still protested. Bofur, luckily, seemed to have noticed, and left him in full control over the handshake. "Uh, Garrett."

Of course, nothing could go without any complications. "So it is yer name, then?" Dwalin snarled from the back, then forced his way to the front. "Tell me, what kind of black magic do ya use, exactly?"

"Dwalin, for the last time," came Dori's voice. In a moment, he was next to Dwalin, arms crossed over his chest and face impassive save for the brows, which were furrowed in irritation. "We took you with us so you two could make peace - or, rather, you stopped being a stern pain in the arse. Not because we wanted to hear you go off onto yet another one of your fits." Daenar was a little taken by surprise that the usually pessimistic and closed in dwarf was taking his side now, especially when the two of them haven't really interacted much. However, he was the only one in the room strong enough to pacify Dwalin if need be, so Daenar was thankful for his support.

Dwalin's resolve, however, wasn't so easily quenched. He started flailing his arms around, anger visibly bubbling in him. "I'll not relent. Fer the sake of us all, I demand he answers me! What if he goes mental 'n kills us all in our sleep? How do I know that can't happen, no matter if he does not want it to?"

"Your concerns are only speculative, lacking any foundation whatsoever-"

"-He lied to us, Dori! How can ya-"

The situation was getting out of hand. Daenar felt like he should do something to stop them, but when he spoke up, they didn't even register him.

"-He didn't lie." Oh, great, now Fíli joined in as well. "He only hid the truth, for justifiable, personal reasons."

Dwalin threw his hands in the air, and was about to shout something in response, but there was a fourth voice that cut down any and all other remarks, especially because nobody expected Ori to sound so angry. "Would you all stop already!" It was almost comical how everyone froze in their current pose, directing their gazes to the latest speaker with eyes wide with shock and disbelief. In the spotlight now, Ori seemed to become acutely aware of the situation he created, shrinking a little in on himself. "G-Garrett wanted, to, erm, s-say something?" He looked at Daenar with such pleading in his eyes it would make anybody's heart melt.

Daenar smiled at him to at least slightly ease the young dwarf's nerves, even though he himself wasn't really any better. He followed the smile with a nod in thanks, then gulped, forcing his voice to be even as he spoke. "Please, do not fight with eachother on my account." He frustratingly rubbed a hand over his face, then threw it in the air. "I, well, I agree with Dwalin. I haven't been sincere with you, a-and as much as it's worth, I'm sorry. I've messed up, and I will do all I can to make it up to everyone." His hands balled into fists where they laid on his thighs. "Just know, that it wasn't anything against any of you, I had my reasons for keeping this in the shadows."

"What reasons?" snarled Dwalin. "What other explanation there could be, other than distrust?"

He looked the dwarf straight in the eyes, unrelenting. "I believe if I was okay with telling anyone, we wouldn't be having this conversation, now, would we?"

The silence that filled the room was nearly deafening. Dwalin worked his jaw, his intense stare enough for Dori to stand in ready to jump in. But he didn't need to, as Dwalin roared in a few seconds, then took a few deep breaths, and, finally, relented. "Fine!," he exclaimed. "But answer my previous question, first! Is or is there not any possibility whatsoever that ya can lose control over... whatever the damned sorcery ya're usin'?"

That was a fair one, he had to admit. He shook his head. "I can assure you I have full control over my transformations, there is truly nothing to be worried about. If there was, I wouldn't be taking the risk, believe me."

Dwalin's eyes narrowed into a thin line, and it seemed like he contemplated whether to trust his word or not. Before he could make his mind up, though, Kíli entered in with a question of his own. "Transformations? There are more than one?"

Daenar nodded. "Well, yes, I can change into some other animals, too. It requires me to get familiar with them, first, to make the transformation actually believable, but... yeah, there's more. Of course, I feel most comfortable as a wolf, hence the reason I almost exclusively use that one."

"Can you turn into an owl? Can I see?" Came an excited request from Ori, which was effectively the last thing needed to finally break the thick atmosphere. "They're my favourite, I haven't seen one in a long time."

Sadly, though, he head to refuse. "Sure, but not now, I'm sorry, Ori." When Ori's smile receded slightly into confusion, he quickly went to further elaborate. "Don't worry, I am almost certain I can do an owl, even though it has been quite some time since my last attempt. But, you see," he motioned to the bandages on his body. "When my true form is injured to a certain level, it ends the transformation, and I become unable to transform until healed enough. Hence why you'll have to wait."

It was Dwalin's time to interject again, though this time, he actually didn't sound all that angry, if only a little dubious. "Is that why ya changed after the fall?"

"Yes, I have suffered enough damage to drain my strength to the point that I could no longer hold the form I was in." From Dwalin's expression, he would say the dwarf was more or less calmed down now, as much as he could be really. Well, it seemed that, at the very least, he was willing to listen, which Daenar would take as a good sign.

He felt more at ease now, answering their questions - which kept coming. Apparently, one should never underestimate the curiosity of dwarves - they asked about many things, mostly trivialities as the questions of bigger importance were asked first. Some excused themselves after those were answered, going off to do their own business, while others formed a circle, some sitting on the bed next to him and some on the floor, grateful for the cushions Daenar offered them to sit on - there were way too many on his bed, elves seemed to love them greatly. Their little group chatter was actually going pretty well. In addition to revealing a part of himself, he got to discover a thing or two about the others, too. Although he wasn't sure how or when, they soon turned away from these things altogether, and instead, they talked about all sorts of random topics, just chatting like a group of friends. It warmed him to be a part of such a gathering, even though he himself didn't contribute much, mostly just listened.

Up until someone asked him a question that gave him a harsh stop. "How did you get that scar over your nose?" Kíli was unaware of just what he was asking for, while a battle of emotions began to clash in Daenar's head. "I've noticed you have it when you're a wolf, too. It seems pretty unusual, I mean, as in, I can't think of a scenario that would-" He stopped, probably upon seeing the storm of emotions on his face, and quickly apologized. "Ohh, I'm sorry, i-is it something personal?"

Daenar gave a curt nod. "Yeah, it is."

The young dwarf scratched behind his neck, looking embarrassed with himself. "I should've known that was the case. Again, I'm sorry."

He offered him a warm smile. "No, no, you have nothing to apologize for, really." He had no way of knowing for sure what the scar meant, there was no need for Kíli to look so sheepish. "You're right about one thing, though; it certainly does look pretty bad." he said in an attempt to lighten the dwarf's mood.

"Oh, no, I've never said it looks bad, just... strange. Though, to be honest, it kind of fits you, adds to your rugged look I would say."

Daenar cocked a brow in amusement, then scoffed. He couldn't believe how Kíli could always turn things around. "Way to make an ugly scar sound interesting."

"Don't you know? Women dig scars!" Kíli added, now wearing a smug grin.

"There we go again," joined in Fíli, rolling his eyes. He then stood up, stretching his arms, before turning to Daenar. "I believe it is time to let you rest, we originally weren't planning on staying so long, anyway - not that we wouldn't want to, we just received a warning not to, eh, 'disturb your healing process' is what they called it? Us barging through your door and holing up in here for nearly two hours certainly wouldn't make our host happy, if he found out. Not that I would particularly care about that, but he might have a point when it comes to you needing rest more than anything."

"That is true," added Óin, standing up as well - and with him, the rest, too. "If there's one thing I would agree on with them, it's that. However, I will have to have a word with whoever thought feeding you grass was a good idea - you need meat to gain back your strength, that green stuff just won't do."

Daenar had to suppress a laugh, but he wholeheartedly agreed with the healer. That stuff was more likely to sooner make him starve to death than help him get back in shape. They all gave him their goodbyes, then were out the door, promising to come by tomorrow again. As soon as everybody was gone, he couldn't help but feel that the room was strangely empty all of a sudden.

He let himself fall back onto the bed, sprawling out on top of the sheets with an exhale, and willed his eyes closed. The meeting went well. A blissful exhaustion fell on him, strengthened by the softness of the bed. He felt content to drift off right then and there - but then his stomach growled, reminding him that he hasn't eaten all day. Well, apart from what Elrond ordered for him, which, in all honesty, was awful and definitely not enough to fill his stomach, even if he managed to power through more than the quarter of that plate still lying on the table. Stranded with naught but that, though, he opted to try and distract his mind from the thoughts of food by picking up the book Bilbo lent him. There was no way he would survive a trek to the kitchen to get himself something else, and they most likely wouldn't even let him.

The day went by rather fast. Granted, he slept through the bigger part of it, and Bilbo's book was, as was promised, pretty good, meaning time just flew for him. Elrond visited again just before dinner, to change the bandage around his abdomen, replacing the ointments below it as well. He couldn't help the few grunts that escaped him as the new ointment was being applied, the wound stinging for a while, and by the time it subsided, he was left a panting mess as he sat on the edge of the bed, bandage long replaced. Elrond placed a new shirt on the bed next to him, another one that looked more fit for nobility rather than him, but he was in no place to complain. The elven lord told him to put it on after he gathers himself and proposed he could dine with him and Gandalf, but Daenar refused, giving that he wanted to strengthen his bond with the Company as an excuse. But really, he just knew there would be better food there, and he wouldn't be under any surveillance. Elrond didn't seem to mind, only nodded in response, then started towards the door.

Daenar's head was still buzzing from the pain, although it was already mostly gone, so he didn't notice the new clop of boots until a silhouette appeared in front of him. He almost jumped out of his skin when he noticed, breath catching in his throat upon finding out who it was.

He felt a little exposed, squirming a bit as Thorin's eyes flicked over his bare chest, but then his gaze stayed on his bandaged side. "T-Thorin? You startled me!" He quickly surveyed the room; there was nobody else, Thorin seemed to have come alone. The dwarf didn't show any sign that he heard him, eyes still on the bandaged wound. Daenar wasn't sure if his sight was deceiving him, but he would swear there was sadness in Thorin's azure eyes. Out of the blue, the dwarf reached out his hand, hovering mere centimetres above the bandage. "Thorin?", Daenar tried again with a heavy breath.

Thorin seemed to get out of his trance, quickly retracting his hand as if he just now realized what he was doing. "Does it hurt?", was his only response.

Of course it did, but like hell Daenar would admit it in front of the dwarf. "No, not anymore..." he said, eyebrows being pulled into a frown.

However, Thorin saw right through the lie. His eyes hardened as they found Daenar's. "Do not lie to me."

Daenar flinched at the stern tone. A sigh escaped him, voice dropping down to a murmur. "All right, it does." He hated admitting such weakness, but it felt like honesty was what the situation called for. Thorin seemed to have a good sense to see through any lie, anyway. "The others are pretty much healed already, but this one hurts like hell. The arrow went pretty deep, but, uh, it's getting better every-"

"-It is my fault." His eyes shot up to see Thorin with a strange emotion on his face. While the dwarf still exuded, well, magnificence, with his straightened back and crossed arms, there was something raw in there, too. Though, it was hard to notice it over the boiling rage that started to take its seed within Daenar, especially when Thorin continued, tone perfectly composed. "You didn't have to come back for me, it was too dangerous, I wouldn't have blamed you."

 _Oh, what the hell?_ "So you would rather have me let you die?!", he spat out, fisting the sheets. He thought that, after yesterday's talk, this was behind them. "You're a fool if you think I'd leave you there, Thorin!"

The dwarf visibly didn't expect the anger in Daenar's voice. His eyes went twice their size with shock, taken aback by Daenar's words. Before long, though, he gathered himself, sitting down next to Daenar, clasping his hands in his lap. "You're strange. And I am not saying that just like that, I truly mean it." He took a deep breath. "Look, I know I haven't acted very kindly towards you over the past two months, I got my incredulousness cloud my judgment at first, and then... my pride, from admitting that I no longer felt any illness against you."

Daenar's rage dissipated slowly, as the realization sunk in. "Wait, what?"

"I have made a mistake, but I'm turning over a leaf, and I want you to feel welcome in our group. So," A hand entered Daenar's field of view. "I propose that we put all of it behind us, and start anew." Raising a brow, the corner of Thorin's mouth pulled up ever so slightly. "What say you?"

Daenar watched the other's hand, before raising his own, leaving it raised in the air for a second. He chanced a glance at Thorin, but had to quickly look away from the dwarf's quizzical eyes. His hesitation, however, planted a seed of doubt in Thorin's head. It was at the moment Thorin's arm started to fall back down that he truly made a grab for it, surprising not only the other, but himself, too. "Thorin, I have to admit, our start was rough, and if you really didn't despise me anymore, you hid it pretty well. In fact, after I woke up here, I genuinely thought that the first thing you would do upon meeting me is punch the light out of me. Well, in a way, I guess I would've deserved that, after how I lead you all on. But... you didn't."

"...Where are you going with this?"

He sighed. "I guess, my point is, I'm glad we talked things out last night. The others actually came to visit earlier, and most of them seemed pretty okay with things, too. You have no idea how much that means to me, that trust. Your trust." He finally found the courage to meet Thorin's eyes. "It would be amazing if we could start over. Now, I do not want to get ahead of myself and think that just like that, with a snap of a finger, we could be friends, but... I do not want us to just, tolerate eachother's presence, either."

A nod was the response. "I can agree with that." Both wore wide grins as the handshake was complete.

He acutely became aware that he had yet to put his shirt on, and hastily did so as he felt Thorin hesitate, obviously wanting to say something. The dwarf's mouth was opening and closing, but no sound came out. In the end, the only thing that came out was a sigh. They sat like that for a moment, Daenar managing to put the new shirt on in the meantime. "So, may I ask you whether there is a concrete reason for your visit?"

"Yes, actually, I felt like we should talk about yesterday."

"Ah," he kind of anticipated that it would come up. "Yeah, about that... I would rather if it stayed only between us? Everything that was said, and, just... yeah, everything. I will admit, I let my guard down, and probably revealed some things I didn't want to-"

"-That isn't what I meant," Thorin interrupted. "I took it as a sure thing that what was exchanged would only be between the two of us. No, I actually wanted to talk about your request."

That grabbed Daenar's attention. "Oh?"

"I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to share some with you over dinner, tonight. We are all dining together, and I'm sure everyone has something to say about Erebor that could interest you - even if they have never been there, they still see it as their home, as a place that once was a home but was taken away from us. That, and also, I figured you needed actual food." As if to prove Thorin's point, Daenar's stomach made itself known, making him bend over and try to squeeze the sound back, but he was unable to muffle the growl very well. The ham from Kíli and Fíli apparently wasn't enough to chase away his hunger. "What even is that?", asked Thorin with disgust, pointing behind Daenar.

He looked over to where Thorin was pointing, huffing a humorless laugh when he saw what he meant. "Ah. Elven idea of food," was his response, scrunching his nose at the plate of green goo placed on his table. His body gave an involuntary shudder as he remembered the taste. "It tastes just the way it looks. Horribly."

Thorin hummed in response. "You do not have to tell me. Granted, the food they presented me with while I was forced to sit through a dinner with our host looked more enticing, but it still didn't do it for me." He stood up, offering Daenar a hand. There was a lot of that lately, Daenar noticed. "So, what do you think about my proposal?"

A grin spread across his face, the gold of his eyes sparkling with eagerness. "You had me at the mention of food."

 

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬

 

The room was filled with laughter as the entirety of the Company, except for Gandalf, sat around a rectangular table filled with food. Well, not exactly. The elves scrambled some food that was to the taste of the dwarves, and although their stomachs could handle much more food, as Bilbo pointed out dryly, they weren't rude and were thankful for whatever they were being offered as a substitute for meat. Elrond was a very generous host, almost too much so. It apparently had something to do with Garrett, if Thorin's observation skills weren't betraying him.

Speaking of the man, Thorin chanced a glance to his right, where Garrett sat between Ori, the young scribe visibly being absolutely mesmerized by him, and Kíli, who wouldn't close his mouth for even a second, save for when he stuffed it with food. He himself sat with Balin and Dwalin, the latter now jabbering about nonsense again. Well, it was nonsense to Thorin, at least.

"Look how that guy has Ori practically wrapped 'round his sleazy fingers. I'm tellin' ya he bewitched the poor lad!"

Thorin could only sigh in resentment. He was looking forward to spending time with the others again, as the rest of the day he was being dragged to all sorts of meetings and parties and such - apparently he was like a celebrity in here, and it would be rude to decline such simple thing from someone who helped them a great deal. It was his sacrifice for the Company. But whenever he wasn't being a glorified statue at someone's boring party, he had to plan with Balin and Gandalf, or something else from a big variety of minor things, only getting some respite every now and then for an hour at most.

So having this ruined by Dwalin's constant complaining, it simply sucked. Luckily, though, he knew just the thing to ground the dwarf, although it was a pretty mean thing to do. However, in some cases, that was a sacrifice he was willing to take. So, without further ado, he took a gulp of his wine and prepared for a pissed Dwalin. "Do you truly believe that? Or are you simply jealous all of Ori's attention isn't on you?"

The effect was instantaneous. Dwalin's face reddened like a ripe tomato, all the way to the tips of his ears, and he started sputtering, all sorts of emotions taking their turn to be displayed on his face, until, finally, it settled on indignation. He was sure Dwalin regretted ever telling him about it, but honestly - Thorin only promised the other dwarf not to tell anyone else, and he kept his word. Nobody ever said a thing about using it to his advantage in situations of dire need - such as this one. Thorin already told him earlier to bury the hatchet or at least cease his complaints, the dwarf had it coming.

Though, he would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy watching Dwalin storm off like a child with attitude, stomping his way away, muttering curses under his beard.

"What did you do now to anger Dwalin so, Thorin?"

He looked at Balin with a grin still plastered on his face. "I'm not entirely sure, Balin, you and I both know he is the explosive type. Anything could set him off." The older dwarf was used to altercations and fights between the two of them, so he only rolled his eyes, muttering something amongst the lines of 'children staying children'. "Come, now, it isn't like he began picking fights and throwing everything in the vicinity across the room, this time around. I would dare say he is calmer than normally, if only a little irritated."

Balin was about to give him a retort, but then he caught sight of something behind Thorin, and smiled instead. Immediately after, someone cleared their throat, and when Thorin looked over to find who this person was, both of his eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"I am sorry if I'm disturbing, but I have been... kicked out of my seat, and would like to know if this one is free?"

Thorin snuck a peak towards Garrett's previous spot, where Dwalin sat with a smug grin on his face, most likely thinking how he paid Thorin back for making fun of him a minute ago. Little did he know, though...

He returned Garrett's smile. "Ah, my apologies, I have a feeling that might've been my doing. Sure, have a seat." He motioned to the now empty chair next to him, which Garrett took without hesitation.

"How is that so?", the man asked as he was sitting down. "Have you chased him away purposefully? I have to admit, he looked pretty exasperated, though I had a reason to believe those emotions were directed at noone but me."

"Oh, trust me, they were directed at the both of us. However, as much as it pains me to say so, I am in no liberty to tell you why - just know it has little to do with hatred and more with his inability to pull his head out of his ass." Originally, he wanted to leave it at that, but then his alcohol-boosted mind supplied one more thing to say. "Though, do not tell him I told you that, with that attitude, he might come and try to challenge me to a tickle fight."

He was happy to see his little quip had the desired effect. Garrett seemed to have a hard time keeping himself from not cracking up. "Was that a joke? Are you joking now?", he asked, amusement dripping from his voice.

Before he could answer, Balin entered their conversation. "His stoic, grumpy attitude magically loosens a little after a few sips of alcohol. It makes him significantly more bearable, I would say." Thorin growled in irritation, and rolled his eyes, though the smile never left his lips. He was no lightweight, it was more so thanks to the company of his friends that he found himself more lighthearted, although Balin kept on saying it was for an entirely different reason. Sure, alcohol helped too, but he was never a heavy drinker.

The two shook their hands over Thorin, as he sat back to give them enough space to do so. "Thorin Oakenshield, smiling and joking." Garrett leaned back, too. "I never thought I'd see the day." Then, more calmly, sincerely. "It's a good look on you, Thorin. You should do it more often." For some reason, Thorin was left speechless, smiling dumbly while staring down into the half-empty glass of wine in his hands. "On one hand, I'm glad I was kicked out of my place, I wanted to talk to you about something, anyway. You see, I have been promised something, a story, as a debt repayment. And, I think I would like to collect now."

"What kind of story would that be, if I may ask?", interjected Balin again.

"Erebor," was the only word Thorin needed to say.

Balin's face darkened in an instant. Thorin knew what was coming next. "That story doesn't exactly have a happy ending, I'm afraid. I wouldn't ruin your moods with it."

"We don't have to tell him about _that_ yet," he tried to defend the idea. "Just, how we remember the Mountain from before Smaug."

"You know more than anyone else in here that there is no way to talk about the Lonely Mountain without recalling _that day_." He put a special emphasis on the last two words. "It is imprinted in our minds, Thorin, you, out of all people-"

"-The others already told me." Thorin's gaze fell on Garrett again, with a questioning look. The man met Balin's eyes as he continued. "About Smaug. Today, while they were visiting me. They didn't go into graphic details, well they couldn't really, but it was enough to explain things. That is not what I wanted you to tell me about, however. I just... I feel like I'm not very informed on the matter of dwarves in general, all I've ever learned has come from books, but that isn't the same as hearing it from somebody who lives through all that, a-and also, I don't know much about... you, as individuals. I thought you could rather enlighten me on those matters. Of course, I'll share anything you might want to know from me, too." His smile faltered a little as he looked away. "Well, almost anything."

Thorin raised a single eyebrow. "So, let me get this straight. You want to know about our race?" It shouldn't have surprised him, but it did. Garrett's smile widened and the man nodded in confirmation. "Ah, then you should probably ask Ori, he is like our walking encyklopedia-"

"I've tried." Garrett gave him a shrug. "All he kept on talking about was how he couldn't wait to see me turn into an owl, or a bear, and-"

"-Wait, what?" Now both of his eyebrows shot up. This man was getting more and more interesting by the second.

"Yeah, you know, it is kind of strange how many requests for turning into animals I had to turn down just today."

"You can turn into anything?" And just like that, Thorin found his entire mind enraptured by the man sitting next to him.

"Well, not just anything, of course, but... I can do some animals, yes. If you want, I can write one for you on my seemingly neverending requests list, too." They both huffed a little laugh, then Garrett's look turned somewhat distant, as he averted his gaze. "This feels nice."

Thorin took another sip from his wine. "What does?"

"The whole night, I guess. You have to understand, I have never belonged anywhere, and sitting here, with everyone, my secret being out in the open yet there is no rancour, feeling of danger, or fire, it just, it moves me." When Garrett's eyes met his, they were a bit misty. "Especially you. I don't think I've thanked you yet, for being so accepting."

He couldn't help the smile that crept onto his face. "I think you've earned it, for not going crazy after putting up with my nonsense."

Garrett actually laughed. "You're incredible when you're in a good mood."

"I think the word you're looking for is insufferable. That's what Balin says, at least."

Out of the blue, a loud crack sounded. He turned his head to find Bombur jumped onto the table, which bent and creaked under his weight, just miraculously holding the dwarf's weight. Bombur danced a little, then caught a few empty bowls of varying sizes thrown his way and sat down onto the table, placing them in front of himself as makeshift drums, the rest of the room cheering him on.

Thorin immediately knew what was coming. "You said you wanted to learn something about us?", he mused as he watched Nori take out his flute, and Fíli his fiddle, while others started humming a tune. "Well, then." He offered Garrett a lopsided grin. "We should start with the basics."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been ages! \o/  
> I hope I'm not stretching the story too much. Let me know what you think, I aprreciate your feedback.


	6. Of Harsh Words and Regrets

 

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**Chapter 6**  
**Of Harsh Words and Regrets**

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The music, although calm, was too loud in Thorin's ears, as he tried to get further away from the 'dance floor' - created by tables put around to form a circle, only interrupted by a stage with orchestra on one side. A slight throb was building in the back of his skull, which he knew would soon bloom into a full on headache if he stayed any longer. That wasn't something he needed right at the moment - or any moment, really. He never liked parties, but Lord Elrond insisted on a sendoff party, for good luck the elf said, as the dwarves were to leave tomorrow morning. There was no room for arguments, anyway, as the preparations began long before the question was even brought up by the Lord.

That didn't mean Thorin had to enjoy the festivities, though. He, of course, tried to smile and share some pleasantries with the other guests, mostly nobles, even went so far as to fulfill some of their requests for a dance. First, he tried to reason with the ladies that he was a terrible dancer, never being one for such things, but that only seemed to spark an even hotter flame in them, as they kept on blabbering about how easy it was and offering they would teach him. His legs almost gave out after changing a few dancing partners, and he had to excuse himself to go and sit down, relieve his legs. Of course, no more than ten minutes later, they dragged him onto the dance floor again, all the women in vicinity seeming to want to get in line for a dance. 'Awkward' was a good word to describe how Thorin felt on the parket - heck, if all his dancing partners being taller than him wasn't enough, his dancing, if it could even be called that, was laughable at least. It was by sheer luck that he has managed to keep his feet from stomping on theirs, at least something he could be proud of.

Retreat wasn't truly an option - he has already tried, numerous times, all attempts ended in vain. He was no match to the persistence of his pursuers, and the most he could do was brace himself for another dance and enjoy the little moments of respite he got in between. This was one such moment, when Thorin was happy that he managed to slip away while, on the other hand, holding his temple with a pained frown. It didn't slip his notice that, for the moment, not much attention was on him, which made for a perfect opportunity to finally escape. It was now or never. However, as he walked with swift, confident strides, he suddenly ran into something solid. His hand immediately shot forward to catch whoever he bumped into, a string of apologies escaping his mouth, only to come to a halt and tensing immediately as he realized that in front of him stood a wide-eyed Garrett. The moment the other realized who he bumped into, he instantly relaxed, to which Thorin, albeit with a little delay, did the same. Thorin took the chance to swiftly inspect the man's attire. He has already caught sight of Garrett once or twice this night, but he never had the chance to look him over quite like now, from much closer. The man was clad in a close-fitting red string shirt, without many embellishments, only a black tree ornament decorating the left sleeve. The strings and some of the lines were dark as well, same as those on his loose grey trousers. Garrett certainly liked dark colours, and they surely suited him, but he had to say the red looked very fitting on him as well. Beside those two pieces of clothing, he only had some comfortable black boots on, nothing else. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbow, revealing built arms, and the top, which was tightly clinging to his body, also brought out the sculpted lines of muscle underneath. Thorin found himself captivated by the sight, which was immediately followed by confusion. The moment he got out of his daze, he gulped, and mumbled one more apology.

"No, I'm sorry, Thorin. I wasn't exactly looking where I was going, either." Garrett smiled, a comforting sight, but frowned the moment he inspected his face more intently. "Thorin? Are you fine? You look pale."

He tried to shoot him an assuring smile, though even he knew it couldn't look very convincing. "It is nothing to be concerned about, I'm merely feeling a little unwell. It should pass in a short while."

As he expected, Garrett didn't buy any of his excuses. The man tilted his head to the side, staring him down. "You're a terrible liar, Thorin."

A corner of his mouth twitched, as a mild irritation started to build in him. "I'm more of an honest and straightforward person."

"Although noble and respectable, that is quite a dangerous trait to have, especially for a king." Before Thorin could register the movement, the back of Garrett's hand landed gently on his forehead, surprising him. His breathing came to an abrupt halt, eyes blown wide, until the touch was gone again. He was left in a daze, confused by his own reaction, which, however, made his annoyance rise in turn once his brain started up again. Though, he couldn't quite tell if it was with himself or Garrett - who acted as if nothing was out of the ordinary. "Your temperature doesn't seem very high, but it is no less concerning."

"Are you quite finished? Your scolding isn't exactly helping matters," he almost spat out, hands curling into fists by his sides. His head pulsed even stronger, forcing him to frown in pain and berate himself internally for letting the situation get the better of him.

"No," came an immediate response. Garrett took Thorin by his wrist, completely ignoring how tense the dwarf became, and started dragging him through the crowd.

"What the hell do you think you're-" He was stopped by the death stare Garrett sent him over his shoulder, and Thorin could only growl his disapproval, stumbling after the man and massaging his temple once again. It wasn't long before they stopped, though by that time, his head was pounding already. The heat of Garrett's hand disappeared in the next moment, but he hardly registered it as the headache kept most of his mind occupied. Damn, when did it become so intense?

A glass of water suddenly entered his vision, along with a hand offering some green leaves mixed with grinded tiny white flowers. "What's that?" he asked, even as he was taking the herbs in his hand.

"A mixture of mint leaves and chamomile. Just chew on it, and rinse with water, they are edible but you don't have to swallow them if you do not want to." Thorin took the herbs and glass, and did as asked. The sweet taste of chamomile fought with the fresh mint, the two herbs together creating a rather pleasant taste. On Garrett's insistence, he also drank some of the cold water, feeling the herbs doing their thing already. "I keep them with me at all times - something Gandalf taught me. It comes in handy more often than one would think."

He focused more on chewing, sighing in relief as the coolness slowly spread inside his head.  "... Indeed," he said, as he let Garrett take the glass.

Garrett poured the remaining water out, then placed the glass back where he found it. "You should be feeling better in just a few moments. However, that doesn't mean it will keep the headache from returning." The man crossed his arms over his chest, assuming a persistent stance as Thorin spat out most of the herbs and wiped his mouth. "You should retreat back into your room, sleep this away. That wasn't a suggestion, I'll drag you there myself should you-."

"-That was my original plan," came Thorin's retort. "And I would have succeeded, if not for you." He regretted the harsh words as soon as they left his tongue, but there was no taking them back anymore. "I'm not reckless, I know my limits, and I'm more than aware of tomorrow's importance."

Garrett's resolve visibly deflated slightly, a sigh escaping him. "Yeah. Yeah, I know you are, I'm sorry. I just... I felt like I-"

"-You felt like you needed to remind me of the single most important thing to me, and act like my personal-"

"I worry about you, okay?!" Garrett's raised voice was loud enough to get the attention of some of those standing closer, who looked their way with various emotions, ranging from surprise, over curiosity, to annoyance. Thorin himself settled on the first option, not used to hearing Garrett raise his voice. The man sighed, looking away from Thorin's shocked eyes. "I'm not sure if others did too and just chose to ignore it, but I've noticed your disappearances, how worn out you looked the rare times I caught sight of you, even now, your headache, that is from lack of sleep, isn't it?"

Thorin worked his jaw, thinking his answer through. He wasn't sure why, but he didn't want to admit the truth. "That is none of your business," he settled on for now, which, perhaps, wasn't the brightest answer; it further proved Garrett's worries weren't completely baseless.

"Except it most definitely is." Garrett stepped closer, into his personal space, getting face-to-face with him. A finger was being jabbed into his chest pointedly. "You are our leader, Thorin, you are who we look up to. And everyone needs you to be in best shape tomorrow. I understand that all you did, it was for the Company's benefit, but there are lines, and you're crossing one."

Thorin's mouth pulled into a thin line. "I do not need to be babysit, or treated with kid gloves. Nobody asked you to do that, so stop." He was slowly losing his cool, knowing he should stop and calm down, but he was already too in it to do that. "Besides, like I have already said, I was actually on my way back to my room, before you halted my plan."

"... I wouldn't be so sure about that."

The words startled him, a frown finding its way onto his face. "What makes you say that?"

The man rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. "There were two ladies wading through the party crowd, closing in on you, and two others were coming from the opposite direction, just returning back to the party from a walk around the residence. All had the same intent - to torture the King under the mountain with his most dreaded and feared social activity, dancing." The man's words were joking, but face impassive and the tone of his voice all the same. Thorin's attempts to put a finger around how Garrett knew all that came out fruitless, mouth opening and closing. "I'm a scout, it is my second nature to be aware of my surroundings, to know about everything that's happening around me. If I can use this ability to save someone from the torture that is socializing, I'll gladly do so."

Thorin sighed, no longer attempting to understand. "It seems my escape is nowhere in sight."

"You underestimate me, Your Majesty."

Thorin winced at the name, but he knew he deserved it after the way he talked to the man just a moment ago. That wasn't, however, as important as the rest of that sentence, the implication was quite clear. "Oh?" Thorin's eyes sparked with hope. "Did you have a plan in mind?"

Garrett took a glass of wine from the table. He stared pointedly towards the park as he took a sip. "As a matter of fact, I do. It is a little... stupid, let us say... to be sneaking out of a party just because you're apparently so easily swooned, unable to put your foot down and simply refuse the dance requests, you know, like anybody else would a long time ago..."

"What-" he started through gritted teeth.

"-I don't blame you, really, the ladies here are very beautiful. Must be hard to resist."

He took Garrett's arm and forcefully pulled it, in order to make the man look back at him. Once he did, Thorin got up in his face, nearly snarling. "Cease your teasing, I am not the slightest bit amused." A few moments passed between them, neither saying a word, before Thorin noticed the other's face scrunch up in pain. It was then that he realized the vice grip he had on his arm, and quickly released it, stepping back again. Garrett rubbed at the spot where his hand was just a moment ago, eyes cold. Thorin knew he fucked up. "I'm sorry," he sighed out. "I know you were only trying to help-"

"You know what? No. It is fine, you made your point clear." Thorin watched with a sinking feeling in his stomach as the man whirled around and practically slammed the glass onto the table. "I shall not disturb your evening any longer. Have a good night, Your Majesty."

He watched the man's back disappear in the party crowd, hiding regret and anger behind a stony expression. The pressure at the back of his head was slowly returning again, to which he cursed, and stepped up to the table to pour himself more water. After he gulped down two glasses, not feeling any difference, he knew he truly needed to get out of here if he was to lead tomorrow morning.

Luck wasn't on his side, though. Just after turning around, determined to disappear, he came face to face with two young elven women, who had shy smiles dancing on their lips. Willing a strained smile onto his face, Thorin nodded politely. "May I help you?", he asked, although it was more than clear what they were going to ask for.

Both women were clad in a silky blue dress, blond hair cascading down almost to the waist. They had light blue eyes matching the dress, sparking with youth. The very first thought that went through Thorin's head upon seeing them was that they were twins, and he supposed he wasn't too far from the truth. Both women gave Thorin a curtsy in return. "Your majesty, king Thorin of the Durin's folk, we've heard so much of your bravery."

Ah, formalities yet again. The second elf continued. "I wish you well on your journey, it surely will be a hard one. However, we didn't come here only to praise your courage."

"King Thorin, would you do us the honor and share a dance with us?"

The hopeful expressions they were sporting outright radiated youth and naivety. Without having to know a thing about them, he could guess they were brought up in comfort and luxury, likely pampered by their parents. These two barely women, more likely just recently coming of age, were used to receive all they wanted with nothing but a soft smile as a payment - the kind Thorin didn't exactly like very much. However, this time around, he didn't think he could grant them their wish - not that he cared that much, honestly. He decided to be straightforward. "I apologize, but I'm afraid I will have to decline. I'm not feeling very well, and was just about to retreat back into my room."

The women weren't going to give up that easily, though. One of them actually pouted, like a child that didn't get the candy; it almost made him laugh. "Please, king Thorin. A single dance is all we're asking for."

He knew it wouldn't be so easy. When was it ever? "I apologize, truly, but my head feels like exploding, and I do not think I can stay any longer lest I want to risk not getting up tomorrow."

"Is that because of the argument you had just a moment ago?" Said the one pouting, who immediately received an elbow by her 'sister'.

"P-please, excuse her, Your Majesty," supplied the other one. Her voice was sweeter, more innocent. She might've been the kinder of the two. "My sister talks before thinking. What she was trying to say is, we've noticed your argument with the man before, and- of course, we didn't eavesdrop! I swear! However, he seemed to be rude to you, and so we thought..." She trailed off, rubbing her palms together nervously.

Her sister continued. "We wanted you to know, we do not think he was right to talk to you in such a way, after all, you are a king, and he seemed to be highly disrespectful towards you. It is a matter of the utmost impudence to act that way towards someone superior and-"

Thorin stopped her with a raised palm, brows tightly knit together. It took every ounce of his will to keep his composure, otherwise his response would come out much harsher. "I'm truly sorry you had to witness that, but you are wrong." The two women tensed. "True, he might've been a little harsher than necessary, but, truth be told, so was I. Plus, he had a good reason to say what he did." His own words resonated with him probably more than with the elves. He sighed, then bowed deeply. "I am truly sorry, but I have to go. Have a nice evening."

He didn't wait for the response, striding past the ladies, his head a mess of thoughts. He honestly didn't care about the whispers and furor his action would cause anymore, as he made his way towards the residence, refusing to stop and talk with anyone, dismissing them away as politely and quickly as he could.

 

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Garrett was the one who broke from the hug first. Gandalf still held his shoulders, squeezing them as if for good luck before telling him to be careful, and make sure everyone makes it through the mountains safely. The wizard had urgent matters to look into, and would meet them on the other side of the mountains. After saying their goodbyes to everyone, the company continued in their journey, through Misty Mountains. They have been warned that the path will be very dangerous and narrow, and sure enough, it wasn't long before they found themselves having to walk in a row on a ledge running along the mountain, keeping their eyes open for slippery rocks and watching over each other, ready to help if anyone was to fall. They continued like this the whole day, bz the end of which Daenar already felt the strain the trek was leaving on his body. Others weren't any better, he concluded. Thorin was in the lead, and Daenar himself was walking near the end, Bilbo closing the group. Sure, Daenar would have had much easier time if he just used his raven form, but this way, he could actually step in should anything happen. He could rely on the transformation if he truly needed it. He briefly debated flying to the front and telling Thorin they needed a break, but quickly swatted the idea away; Thorin was surely aware of their need for rest. Also, so far he didn't see any places suitable for them to rest at. So, continue on walking it was. They were nearing the High Pass, was his assumption.

He was still mad at their leader. Some of his anger deflated over the night, and some when he found out that the dwarf actually took his advice last night, but he was nowhere near okay with Thorin, still. The dwarf's words weren't what angered him the most, though. Daenar felt for the spot where Thorin grabbed him yesterday, finding that it was still a little painful to the touch. Truthfully, that was the part that scared him yesterday. He knew Thorin could lash out, out of anger, he has seen it numerous times, but the dwarf would never hurt anybody close, not even in a state when he wasn't fully himself. It made him think - maybe the two of them weren't as close as Daenar thought, maybe the friendship they were building over the past week was just a pretence. After all, how much did he truly know the dwarf?

He wasn't sure when it started, but suddenly, Daenar noticed it was raining. Glaring up into the sky, his thoughts became even darker - this didn't mean anything good. As if gods were listening in to his thoughts, the ground suddenly started to shake. He was vaguely aware of Thorin shouting something from the front, but was too busy keeping himself from falling to try to understand the words.

All hell broke loose after that. With a shock, Daenar realized that it wasn't an earthshake - the mountain itself was moving. But his mind was on another things then, as they were forced to jump from ledge to ledge, barely escaping falling rocks. His breath caught in his throat when he looked up and saw that the mountains around them shaped into a human-like form and started to fight with each other, unaware that their fighting also affected a certain group trying to pass through. Quickly looking back down, Daenar found that they were currently jumping over to a different ledge one by one yet again, and focused on his task.

It was when himself, Bilbo, and three other dwarves were left that the two opposite walls of stone suddenly started to fly towards each other in a rapid speed. There was no time to think of an escape, as all of them braced themselves for the inevitable crash. It was only by sheer power of luck that they weren't crushed between the two stone masses, but the crash still left them shook up. Somehow they ended up on the other side, himself down on the ground, trying to scramble up. A hand was suddenly under his arm, helping him up, and when he raised his gaze, he was met with eyes blue like a pool of water, relief visible in them. Daenar's own eyes betrayed no emotion. Thorin's gaze lingered on his, then the dwarf looked around, the worry returning again. "Where's Bilbo?", he asked, eyes darting everywhere. Daenar's eyes widened as he looked frantically around, too. The moment he glimpsed hands holding onto the ledge a few feet away, he immediately darted in that direction, slipping from Thorin's hold. "Garrett!" Sounded Thorin's shout, a few others joining in, but he paid them no mind.

Bilbo was hanging dangerously low, desperately trying to climb up, eyes terrified. Daenar knelt down and tried reaching the hobbit, but he was too far. He didn't fear falling down, as he still had a trick up his sleeve - the raven form. However, if he changed into a raven, he wouldn't be able to carry the hobbit's weight. Daenar leaned down some more, so close to reaching Bilbo's hand, just a bit more...

His own hand suddenly slipped on the wet stone, and a few rocks came loose, falling down into the void, as he almost came falling down with them. He ignored the painful sting on his hand, focusing fully on what was more important in the moment.

Strong arms grabbed his legs, preventing him from falling. After he got from the initial surprise, Daenar quickly grabbed both Bilbo's hands. Soon, they were both being lifted up, relief washing over him when he found himself sitting safely on the ground, releasing a long breath. However, when Thorin's face leaned into his vision, glaring, Daenar quickly stood up, almost bumping his head into the dwarf's chin in the process, wincing as his right arm slightly protested against the quick movement. _What did I do wrong now?_ In fact, he knew why Thorin was angry, but he didn't seriously think Daenar would risk Bilbo falling, did he?

The dwarf didn't comment on it any further, but Daenar knew he would get a proper scolding later, once they found a good refuge, away from the rain. He was glad for the fact that Thorin again assumed his position in the front, because he didn't know how much longer he could take the dwarf's presence, and not long later, they found a cave which everyone eagerly stumbled into, glad to have something to block the rain above their heads. As others went to start a bonfire to dry their soaked clothes and warm up, Daenar sat down by the nearest wall and propped himself on it, a grimace flashing across his face at the sharp burn that ran through the injured arm - the same one where the bruise from yesterday was, too. Damn. He carefully rolled up the sleeve, glad to see that the wound was just a graze, nothing serious. Still, it burned nastily, so he ought to come find Óin soon. Right now, though, he relished in the feeling of finally being able to sit and relax, closing his eyes lazily.

Not long after, he heard a scratching of boots as somebody was approaching him, and braced himself for the hurricane that was exasperated Thorin Oakenshield. What a surprise it was when instead, who greeted him upon opening his eyes was a sheepish-looking hobbit, who was looking anywhere but at him. A few seconds in silence passed, before Bilbo gathered the courage to, finally, meet his eyes. Words started flying out of his mouth like bullets from a machine gun. "I, uh, hey, Garrett, I just- I guess - I wanted to thank you, for saving my life today and risking your own in the process, I'm- I'm really sorry I got you into such situation but it means a lot to me and-"

"-Bilbo," Daenar had to stop the man, voice gentle.

Bilbo's voice, on the other hand, rose an octave, as the startled halfling rubbed a hand up and down his arm in sheepishness. "Y-yes?"

Putting on a smile, Daenar continued. "It was nothing, don't worry about it. I'm glad you're okay."

The mouth of the hobbit opened and closed a few times, speechless, but then his eyes landed on Daenar's hand, immediately widening. "Y-you're bleeding," he stammered out. "I'll go get Óin, fast, I'll be right ba-" As he was turning around, the hobbit crashed into a solid chest, a hand quickly shooting up to hold his nose. Daenar grumbled a curse, mentally preparing himself for the inevitable. He didn't even have to look in order to find out who it was. "I-I'm sorry, Thorin, I was just about to go get Óin-"

"That won't be necessary, master burglar," sounded Thorin's deep voice before the dwarf stepped to the side to walk past the hobbit. Daenar's eyebrows shot up when he caught sight of the bandages and herbs in Thorin's hand. "Óin is too busy treating Dwalin, I'll deal with Garrett's injuries." Not waiting for a response, Thorin walked up to Daenar, just standing there for a second before crouching down. "Give me your hand," was all he said, and Daenar obliged. Not without a witty remark, though.

"I wasn't aware there was an open position for another healer. And I would never expect you to be the one to volunteer for said position."

Thorin, however, either wasn't paying any attention to what he said, or chose to ignore it completely. Just as Daenar expected, the scolding came - rather sooner than he anticipated, but then again, Thorin always disliked beating around the bush, rather getting to the point quickly. It was, in most times, much better than the former option, but at that exact moment, he could do nothing but curse it. "Can you explain to me what that recklessness out there was?"

A growl came out of him. Thorin, unperturbed by Daenar's behaviour, only unwound some bandage from the roll. "I only did what- nnngh!" His voice was cut off as Thorin put the herbs on the wound and started wrapping the bandage around it. The dwarf was trying to be gentle, but the wound still burned like hell.

Thorin kept his eyes on his work. "Were you so eager to die?"

"No!", said Daenar through clenched teeth. "Of, ughh, of course not!"

Seeing his struggle, Thorin sent him an apologetic look and stopped with giving him a piece of his mind, making Daenar eternally grateful. The whole treatment took only a few minutes, but he was left breathless when Thorin finished tending to his wounds. By that time, though, the herbs were already taking effect, soothing the pain, the only thing he could feel anymore being a slight buzz.

He didn't expect the dwarf to roll his sleeve further up. Not sure why, some part of him didn't want Thorin to see the bruise, so he quickly grabbed for the sleeve to stop him, but the dwarf was faster.

Both of them froze as Thorin's eyes stayed glued on the blue skin. Daenar broke out of it faster, tugging the sleeve back down with ease as Thorin's hold on it loosened. He kept his eyes on the ground, wiggling awkwardly when the silence stretched on for too long. "Am I released now, _doctor_?" he tried to joke awkwardly. No answer came, so he wiggled again. "Thorin?"

The dwarf's voice was different, tainted with an emotion Daenar has never heard from him before. Like regret and anger combined. "I-"

His gaze shot up, finding the dwarf's eyes glassy and his hand trembling, still outstretched as if holding the sleeve. He sprung into action quickly, sitting up. "Thorin-"

"I've never meant to, I- I didn't know, I-" Thorin's voice broke on the last word, and he sounded like he would burst into tears in the next moment. Daenar reached out to put both hands on Thorin's shoulders, shaking and saying Thorin's name as if the dwarf needed to be woken up. Thorin chose that opportunity to find his eyes. "Forgive me, Garrett. I- I didn't know it was so bad-"

He did the only thing he knew could ease the dwarf up, pulling him into a tight hug. Thorin's body was taut at first, but then he melted into his embrace, gingerly putting his arms around him, all while Daenar kept on repeating that it was all right, that the bruise wasn't so bad. "Calm down, Thorin, it is fine."

The dwarf leaned away a little, taking his bandaged hand in between both of his. He seemed to be himself again, but still, his shoulders were sagged and he didn't look up from their hands. At least the trembling stopped. "It doesn't matter that it doesn't hurt anymore Garrett. It's just- something like that never should have happened in the first place, I know I can control my emotions better than that." Then the dwarf gave him the biggest surprise of the day yet, when he raised Daenar's hand, and planted a tender kiss on its palm. "I'm truly sorry."

Daenar was left speechless, unsure of what to think anymore. Thorin's behaviour was unusual to say the least, but the word shocking covered his feelings much better. Maybe that was the reason he sat there with mouth agape, staring at the person in front of him like he got hit over the head. Suddenly, he became aware of the heat radiating from the dwarf, mostly the one coming off Thorin's hands, warming his own, a shiver running through him at the sensation. How come he never noticed before?

"Are you cold?" Thorin pierced the silence.

Although the shiver wasn't from being cold, Daenar didn't feel very warm, either. He nodded his head in an answer, Thorin immediately jumping to his feet. The soaked clothes were doing their thing, and, as soon as possible, he needed to get closer to the fire the other dwarves already managed to set up. Thorin, it seemed, had the same idea, as he, with gentleness that absolutely didn't suit the stubborn and commanding king, pulled Daenar up and began leading him towards the fire. "Thorin?" He asked, wanting to get something out of his chest before they reached the others. The dwarf hummed in question, and Daenar felt a smile make its way onto his face. "You're forgiven."

"Thank you," breathed out Thorin. "I'll make sure I earn your forgiveness, Garrett. I promise."

The others immediately made room for the two of them. Daenar found himself squeezed between Thorin and Bombur, the two dwarves probably giving out more heat than the fire itself. "How come you're both so warm," he mumbled, staring into the dancing flames.

Bombur caught what he said, and, louder than what was necessary, answered his question. "Well, that's just how it is, Garrett, dwarves run hot!"

It seemed to break the gloomy mood that hung in the air up until now, Bofur's laugh from the other side of the circle helping things as well. "Now that you're right about, my friend!" Then, as if something suddenly clicked to him. "Wait, you meant our looks, right, Garrett?"

He was glad his blush wasn't very distinguishable under the light from the fire. "N-no, I... I meant that, uh, your body heat... You're like furnaces, you have to rarely get cold."

However, Bofur didn't believe him, grinning widely. "Come on, you don't have to be shy about such-"

"-That's enough." Thorin's stern tone seemingly didn't have even the slightest effect on the dwarves, who didn't even flinch, but Daenar almost jumped out of his skin. "He obviously didn't mean anything like that, Bofur."

Balin, trying to calm the situation, went to change the topic. "That was very fast thinking out there, Garrett. You saved master Baggins's life, it was very brave of you."

A few agreeing hums sounded, even Thorin admitted that had it not been for him, their hobbit might not have been sitting amongst them anymore. He expressed his disapproval of such reckless behaviour, but said that this time, the recklessness might've saved Bilbo's life. His tone was finally calm, and the aura of authority was back too. Seems like the old Thorin was finally back, which made Daenar relax too.

"Are you still cold?" Asked Thorin again. Daenar only shook his head in an answer, hoping that the dwarf would catch the movement in the dim light. He probably did, as he turned back towards the fire, not saying anything else.

A moment later, Bofur started serving soup, which sparked a conversation between him and Bombur, others joining in sometimes. Daenar found himself listening in, staring into the flame and smiling to himself as the dwarves laughed and joked around. There was a feeling deep inside his chest, a feeling of being part of something, a family. Not exactly sure why, Daenar looked to the side at Thorin, finding out that the other's eyes were on him, as well. Without knowing what to do, he just smiled, then turned back towards the fire. Before he did so, though, he could swear he saw the dwarf return the smile.

At one moment, Bombur was explaining the difference between one meat and another, pointing out the pros and cons of each of them, and in the next, Daenar found himself being gently shaken awake, eyes only reluctantly opening. His head was laid on something solid yet soft, even though he was still in a sitting position. Chasing the comfort of his pillow, he buried his head deeper, mumbling a sleepy 'jus' one more minute'. He felt the answer more than he heard it, as if his own pillow spoke. "Garrett, I need to stand up." The voice was soft, a hint of amusement dripping from it.

Another voice from a little further away sounded, too. "I really think he likes your shoulder, uncle. I wouldn't exactly blame him, it truly looks very comfortable." Then the voice snickered, and Daenar wished everybody just stopped bothering him and let him go back to sleep.

The following rumble from his pillow sounded heavenly, lulling him back to sleep, and a smile spread on his face. However, suddenly the words that were said started running inside his head, smile turning into a frown as his brain was trying to piece things together. There was something he was missing, and his damned brain wouldn't leave it alone. _Shoulder. Uncle. The voices_.

As if receiving an electric shock, his body shot up fast, eyes immediately finding the ones of his 'pillow'. Thorin didn't look the least puzzled by the quick movement, the corner of his lips raised slightly. "O-oh, god, I-I'm so sorry." Daenar quickly wiped his mouth, realizing with horror that he has been drooling on Thorin's shoulder. He wished the ground would just open up below him and swallow him whole. "You should've woken me immediately, I didn't know that- that I would fall asleep."

"Oh, he surely didn't mind, don't worry," commented Bofur just before bursting into laughter. Garrett was red even behind ears when he realized everybody's eyes were on him.

Thorin scowled at the other dwarf. "He needed the sleep, I didn't want to wake him." With that being said, he stood up, summoning back his commanding demeanour. "That applies for all of you. I'll take the first watch, we'll switch every hour-"

"-I, uh, would, rather take the first watch, if that's okay," said Daenar, standing up as well. He was still flustered, but stomped the emotion to the ground. After what just happened, he wouldn't be able to fall asleep, anyway. "Well, I had my fair share of sleep already, so it's only logical I go first..."

Thorin didn't look very pleased, but seeing that Daenar was very serious about it, he ultimately agreed. "However, I'll go second," he added. "And don't hesitate to wake me earlier should anything happen."

Taking it as the best assent he could hope for, especially over Thorin's apparent reluctance, Daenar didn't waste any time in taking his place by the cave entrance, sitting down onto the cold stone and propping himself up against the wall, so he had great view of the outside and inside of the cave. He spread his cape under himself to chase away at least a bit of the cold, then sat in silence, staring out into the night. They spent most of the night walking, unable to find a place suitable to sleep at, and the sun would surely be up anytime soon again. They'd need to sleep in through the morning as well.

For a few minutes, shuffling and huffing could be heard from where the dwarves were laying down, but, one by one, it was being replaced by snores, some louder than the others. For the lack of knowing what to do, he looked up into the night sky, immediately mesmerized by the sight. The stars shone so brightly, like little pearls on a silken black dress. It reminded him of the few nights he skipped going to the forest in favour of spending the time with his mother, she loved the night sky, and so did he. They could both spend many hours looking at the stars, and his mother taught him all she knew about their names, meaning, even the constellations they create.

Memories of her always saddened him a little. After all those years, he still didn't know what happened to her, if she survived - though, he has given up any hope in that, she would surely find him long ago were she still alive. Gandalf never gave him a straight answer. He would always say that when he found him, she was no longer there, or he would dodge the question entirely. However, Daenar knew the wizard was holding back, keeping pieces of what truly happened to himself. He couldn't fathom why; It didn't make sense - none of it did. But he also knew better than to try and pull the answer out of Gandalf. The old man probably thought that by leaving just a spark of hope, Daenar would feel better. He didn't.

His eyes got watery as he again thought back on those nights, stolen moments with his mother, how she was running her fingers through his dark messy turf of a hair, pointing up into the sky and telling him stories or singing him to sleep. She was his anchor in this cruel and unfair world, and for a long time after she was gone, he felt like he was freely swimming through life, without a goal, empty and void of all emotions.

He was so lost in his thoughts, that he didn't notice the scrunching of stones as somebody made his way towards him, until Thorin spoke. "Hey." It was said so softly that it startled him a little, and he sat up more upright. "Can I sit with you?"

He couldn't keep a bit of exasperation from entering his voice, keeping it low so as to not disturb the others. "Need I remind you of our yesterday's argument, Thorin?" Even as he was saying that, though, Daenar spread the cape more, so Thorin didn't have to sit on the hard stone.

Thorin accepted the offered space with a thanks, wiggling a little to make himself more comfortable. "I do not feel very sleepy."

"Believe it or not, that doesn't exactly set my mind at ease."

Thorin hummed, which Daenar noticed to be happening quite frequently as of late. It had to be some sort of the dwarf's substitute for glaring, at least that's what Daenar thought. He certainly liked it more, so he wasn't going to complain. "If I told you I simply wanted to talk with you?"

"... Thorin, I swear, if this is you still trying to make up for the bruise..." He quickly continued, remembering something. "Besides, I think I've already claimed that particular debt." Thorin's gaze was filled with confusion, so he went to elaborate. "My head? Your shoulder?"

The instant it clicked to him, Thorin's smile widened, and he looked like he would've laughed if it didn't mean waking everyone up. A shame, really. "Must you overdramatize everything? I've already said, it is fine, I didn't mind. You looked kind of... adorable, really, out cold like that."

Daenar nearly choked on his own breath. "Adorable?!" He realized too late that he raised his voice, waiting high-strung until the huffs from the direction of his sleeping companions died down, before talking again, now in a whisper. "I've made a fool out of myself."

"No, you haven't, exhaustion can get the better of us, that's nothing to be ashamed of."

A sigh escaped him, and he slid further down the wall. "Well, at least you're taking it quite well..." He mumbled, staring down to where he linked his hands together out of lack of anything else to do with them. When no answer came, he brought his gaze up, finding Thorin's eyes boring into him, and a hint of a smile dancing on the dwarf's lips. "What. Something on my face?"

Thorin tilted his head slightly to the side. "I'm glad we got to know eachother."

It took a moment before any word fell out of him. "That's a weird thing to say out of the blue."

Thorin, too, slid down the wall a little. "I'm being serious. I don't know why, but you bring out some strange part of me that I seemed to have long forgotten ever existed."

"Oh, yes, that I have noticed. When you normally talk, you sound like there's a stick up your ass - no offense. Always so composed, majestic, dramatic." Daenar put a hand in the air, and, with each adjective, made a roll of his wrist, also deepening the tone of his voice - all to further emphasize each word, before dropping the hand and returning back to his normal voice. "I actually like the Thorin you became during our nightly talks in Rivendell - when I managed to get you to take a break, that is. Made it look like you actually have a soul."

His words pulled another hum from Thorin, then they sat in silence for a minute, simply enjoying the calm night. Well, if you ignored the rain, and snoring.

"Do you know much from astronomy?"

The question caught him off guard. "Uh, I know a bit, yes. Why?"

Thorin suddenly pointed up. "That star, do you know its name?"

Daenar followed the notional trail of where the dwarf was pointing. "I would be surprised if anyone didn't," he said upon finding the one Thorin meant. "The icy blue color is unmistakable. That is Helluin."

Thorin gave him an approving nod. "Together with the others around, it creates the constellation Telumehtar, also called Menelvagor in elven, meaning 'Warrior of the Sky'. It is said that whenever the constellation appears, it means good luck in the next battle." With that, he let his hand fall back on top of his chest. "It is shining quite brightly today."

"... I never pegged you for the superstitious type." He regarded his companion with a questioning look.

Thorin raised a shoulder in a half-shrug. "It doesn't hurt to believe in something, though you're not wrong that I prefer action over old wives' tales and prayers."

Daenar huffed a laugh. "You know, if you said that to me a week ago, I wouldn't believe it's truly you talking. I would probably think somebody hit you over the head or something."

"Truth be told, me neither." The dwarf averted his gaze, his look distant. "I sometimes don't recognize my own self, Garrett. It scares me." There was no humor behind the chuckle that followed. "You know that you took your lie too far when you start believing it, too."

Daenar didn't completely agree with that statement. "You got it wrong." He waited for Thorin to meet his eyes before continuing. "I don't think you're lying to yourself, Thorin. You're just so overwhelmed by all that expectation you carry on your shoulders, that you barely have time for yourself. What I've seen during our stay in Rivendell only hints towards the same conclusion." He put a hand on Thorin's shoulder, thinking it may make his speech more sincere. "But that's why you have me now, to have someone to talk to when you need some sanity check."

The smile finally returned to the dwarf's face, making his own brighten as well. "I guess you're right..."

They let a few seconds pass between them, when suddenly, like a slap across his face, the feeling from before hit him again, and he became hyperaware of the searing heat on his hand, coming from the dwarf's broad shoulder. His throat tightened as he tried to swallow past the lump that formed there, mind racing, golden eyes, etched with something resembling confusion and fear, boring into blue ones. Something stirred within him, stopping him from being able to look away. Daenar's breath became heavier, as his eyes flickered over the other's handsome face, and the long, soft, dark locks of hair, the braids in them held by masterfully crafted beads...

He blinked, quickly realizing where his thoughts went and shutting them down. Of course, he noticed how handsome Thorin was, it was hard to overlook. However, he never dwelled on his attraction towards the dwarf too much, as it felt obvious to him that the King under the mountain, this incredible dwarf sitting next to him, would never feel attracted to somebody like Daenar. Or even be attracted to men in the first place.

He was definitely pulled out of his thoughts when a loud snore tore through the air, retracting his hand like he got burned. Daenar lowered his eyes to the ground and slowly stood up. How he managed to keep his voice at least slightly even was beyond him. "I think it's time for us to swap..."

Thorin seemed completely unfazed, standing up as well. "Yeah, you should catch some sleep."

He flashed the dwarf a smile and they exchanged quick goodnights. His legs moved on their own volition, carrying him slowly to where others were laying. "I, um..." He spared a last glance back, but Thorin was already sitting and staring out into the sky, not giving out any sign that he heard him. "I'll see you in the morning," he whispered, then continued on walking away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ummm... A belated Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year? :^)


	7. Goblin Town

╭╼|══════════|╾╮  
  
**Chapter 7**  
**Goblin Town**

╰╼|══════════|╾╯

 

Everything inside him was screaming, as he watched Garrett's retreating back. Something happened just a moment ago, something he couldn't quite figure out. It seemed to have spooked Garrett - and, in turn, him as well. The lack of understanding was gnawing at his mind, pulling at every thought.

Thorin opted to watch the sky, try to focus on anything but the tight feeling in his chest. The cold night wind suddenly blew, raising goosebumps on his arms, forcing him to huddle up more. In doing so, he felt that there was something soft he was sitting on, and, upon looking down, found Garrett's jacket still laid out under him. The man has forgotten to take it back, Thorin realized. He immediately looked to find him in the dark, narrowing his eyes to see better. He glimpsed some movement in the back of the cave, then stood up, picking up the cape with him. "Garrett?" He whispered, hoping he wouldn't wake the others. Sure enough, a black silhouette sat up where he saw the movement, mumbling something he didn't quite catch. "Your cape, you forgot it." When he moved closer, Garrett's face became more visible. "I thought you might want it back?"

"Ah, yeah, thanks." The man reached to take the cape from him, but suddenly halted his movements, eyes fixed on something. He shot up quickly, voice no longer a whisper. "Thorin, your sword!"

The sudden burst of energy in the man made all of Thorin's alarms go off. Glancing down, he found the reason for Garrett's alert. Although sheathed, the blue glow of his sword shone in the dark, which could only mean one thing. "Wake up!", he shouted. "Everybody-" His cries were cut short as the ground suddenly gave out under him, and Thorin found himself falling, sliding through stone tunnels god knows where. He could hear the cries and shouts from around him, adding fuel to the chaos. There was nothing to be done other than steeling himself against the inevitable landing.

After what felt like minutes, but was actually probably just tens of seconds at maximum, he found himself crashing down onto a hard surface, the landing knocking the air out of his lungs. The few more bodies that fell on top of his in a heap didn't make the situation any better. Everyone picked themselves up as fast as they could, but before they all got out of their shock, there were goblins all around them, stealing their weapons with bony and nimble hands as the company thrashed around, trying to fight them off - to no avail.

Soon, they had no means of fighting back, stripped of all their weapons, but dwarves didn't have it in their blood to give up so easily and continued on throwing punches, trying to get out of the disadvantage. There were too many enemies for them to have a chance. Thorin looked around in panic as the group was being pushed along a narrow path, on ramshackle wooden bridges, the ugly creatures around them screeching and babbling in glee from their latest catch. He tried to count everyone present, but it was hard to do over still trying to wrap his head around everything. However, he had a sinking feeling that someone was missing. "Thorin?" Sounded a familiar voice from behind him, one which he heard not too long ago under calmer circumstances. Managing to crane his neck back, at least some of his worries dissipated when his eyes found Garrett's, uninjured, if only a little shaken from the twist of events.

Things may not last that way, though. A feeling of even stronger determination washed over him, fully intent on protecting everyone, and get them out of this plight they found themselves in. "Is anybody missing?" If anyone fell down into the depth of this cave, there was no way he survived, making Thorin gulp heavily at the thought.

Some goblin pushed him harshly then, forcing him to look back forwards so as to not lose balance. However, at least he could feel Garrett's comforting presence behind him now. Even better when the man smoothed his fears with relatively good news, whispering so the goblins didn't hear them. The creatures were in the middle of creating some horrendous song, but one could never be sure. "I saw Bilbo behind us. The goblins didn't notice him, but I fear it won't be long before they do."

"Let us hope he'll make it out safely," breathed out Thorin. He honestly didn't know whether it was for the better or worse that the hobbit managed to slip out of notice, but he could only trust Bilbo manages to sneak out of the cave without encountering any problems. He dismissed that worry for now, as the group had problems of their own.

They came to a halt on a large, semi-circle wooden platform on which the most obtrusive thing was a big fat troll, holding a wooden staff with a skull impaled on top. Thorin realized that the creature was the source of the horrendous singing that threatened to scar him for life should it continue for even longer. It looked like this one was their king. Thorin couldn't help but scrunch his nose in disgust as he noticed the creature's chin, which was double the size of its head, bouncing around like a sack of potatoes as the goblin was doing something that was probably supposed to represent dancing.

"Pound, pound, far underground  
Down, down, down in goblin town!"

The line seemed to encourage all the goblins even further, the shouts and all other disgusting sounds slowly but surely getting to an unbearable level. He almost lost his mind from the goblin king's annoying voice, but lucky for him, the song ended sooner than that could happen.

"You can yammer and yelp  
But there ain't no help  
Pound pound, far underground  
Down, down, down in Goblin Town"

Came the last lyrics, before the mass of fat scrambled back up onto its throne, accompanied by cheering from the other goblins. "Catchy, isn't it?" The creature said just after making himself comfortable. "It's one of my own compositions." It sounded like he was truly proud of his composing skills. Despite all the poison that gathered in his mouth, though, Thorin willed himself not to say a word - it wouldn't be wise to rile up their captor.

A bunch of loud clanks sounded as the goblins dropped the seized weapons, the goblin king's anger rising at the sight. "Who would be so bold as to come armed into my kingdom?" came out of his huge mouth, and one of the smaller goblins quickly went to reply, visibly in a state of bliss that it could help its king.

"Dwarves, your malevolence."

"Dwarves?" The goblin's anger was quickly replaced by excitement, which reflected in the tone of his voice as well.

"We found them on the front porch." said the same small goblin almost proudly, voice rising to a high pitch at the end of the sentence. Its behaviour was even more disgusting than the king himself.

"Well, don't just stand there! Search them!" There were immediately small hands searching all of them again, as the king urged them to continue their search for any valuables. "Search every crack, every crevice! Dwarves tend to have a lot of gold on their person!"

Thorin, knowing that none of them had anything of significant value, stayed calm and just glared at the goblin king. Suddenly, a few baubles and golden dishes rattled down onto the wooden floor as the goblins were emptying Nori's bag, and Thorin turned his glare to the dwarf, the others doing the same. "Just a couple of keepsakes," Nori shrugged off their gazes.

"It is my belief, your great protuberance," exclaimed the annoying small goblin, picking up one of the trinkets, "that they are in league with elves!" He handed the item to the goblin king, who took it enthusiastically.

The enthusiasm fell down quickly again after inspecting the item. "Made in Rivendell," the goblin king said almost disinterestedly, before throwing it away. "Second age. Couldn't give it away."

A sudden cry, almost a growl, next to Thorin made him turn his head in the direction. "Get off of me!" Garrett tried to shake off a goblin, who was tugging at his jacket, probably probing for more shinies.

Before Thorin could step in, the goblin king turned his attention to the man. "You're not a dwarf," he said, advancing on him while the small goblin scurried away. "Tell me, what is a human doing in the company of dwarves?" He leaned dangerously close to Garrett, who was doing his best to keep a cool expression, even if his nose scrunched up at the goblin's smelly breath.

That was the cue for Thorin to finally intervene, stepping out from the back and revealing himself. "Leave him be."

Recognition sparked in the goblin king's eyes, immediately turning all his focus on Thorin. "Well, well, well," said the creature. "Look who it is." The goblin stood up straighter, towering over him. Despite his height, though, Thorin wasn't afraid, and let that fact show on his face. "Thorin, son of Thrain, grandson of Thrór. King under the mountain." He bowed in obvious mockery, making all the other goblins burst into a squeaky laughter. "Oh, but I'm forgetting, you don't have a mountain, and you're not a king. Which makes you... nobody, really." Finished the goblin king, visibly satisfied with the humiliation. Thorin only clenched his teeth, ignoring the creature's words. "I know someone who would pay a pretty price for your head. Just the head," an ugly giggle escaped his enormous mouth, before he continued. "nothing attached. Perhaps you know of whom I speak." Thorin didn't move an inch as the goblin leaned towards him, staring with an aura of somebody who was enjoying the sudden turn of events way too much. "An old enemy of yours." When Thorin didn't bear any sign of knowing who he was talking about, the goblin went to elaborate. "A pale orc, astride a white warg."

In an instant, Thorin went rigid, a hurricane of thoughts running inside his head. _That's impossible_. Confusion, anger, disbelief. Those were all emotions that flashed across his face, before he settled on the last one. When he spoke, his voice carried a hint of resolute certainty, although it still shook slightly. "Azog the Defiler was destroyed. He was slain in battle long ago."

The goblin king's eyes twinkled at that. "So you think his defiling days are done, do you?" Turning around, he walked to a tiny goblin sat on what looked like a wooden seat hanging on a zipline, who was holding a paper and a quill. "Send word to the Pale Orc. Tell him I have found his prize." The tiny messenger scribbled the words on the paper and then giggled manically as he let the seat loose, riding down the rope to god knows where.

Thorin, who still couldn't believe what he just found out, remained motionless, mulling over the words. The goblin king started singing again, but not for long, as a sudden clank pulled Thorin out of his trance. "I know that sword!" shouted the big goblin, sounding scared. "It is the Goblin cleaver!" He muttered some nonsense, which Thorin didn't register, because in the next moment, the other goblins threw themselves at them, and he fell to the ground, unprepared. "Slash them! Beat them! Kill them, kill them all!" Sounded the goblin king's voice still, as Thorin had to protect himself from the beating. "Cut off his head!"

He heard his name being shouted by a few of his companions. However, they had no way to get to him over the masses of goblins. Thorin tried to put up a fight, but it was all futile. They knocked him back down before he managed to so much as get to a sitting position. He tried again, kicking one of the goblins away and punching another, but as soon as there was a breach in his defense, the others seized it, landing a blow to his head that made his vision go blurry. When he regained focus again, it was to block another blow, leaving him back where he started.

He desperately tried to scramble for a way to get out of this situation, when a sudden flash of light blinded him, forcing his eyes shut. When he opened them again, he found no goblins above him anymore, making him able to sit up. All the goblins were thrown back, together with the rest of the company, all in a big pile of bodies. When Thorin looked towards the source of the strange light, a heavy stone fell from his chest. Never was he happier to see Gandalf than at that exact moment.

"Take up arms," the wizard shouted. "Fight. Fight!"

Nobody didn't need to be told twice. The whole group sprang to their feet and ran up to the pile of weapons, picking up their own. He threw what he guessed was Garrett's sword to the man, who caught it before twisting around and beheading a goblin that was running up to him. With a nod in thanks, and Thorin's nod in return, they each turned to slash through the masses of goblins that suddenly spilled their way.

When the goblin king saw that their numbers were thinning, he decided to join the fray, in all the glory that a big ball of fat could muster. He raised his staff, prepared to strike down on Nori who found himself lying on the ground, but as he swung the weapon down, Thorin had no problem blocking the strike, using the goblin's strength against him. The goblin king stumbled back, falling over the edge of the platform, and, with a scream, disappeared from their sight.

A wave of satisfaction washed over him as he watched the goblin's form disappear. However, they still needed to get out of this blasted 'city' before there could be any reason to celebrate. No protests were made when Gandalf ordered them to follow him. The whole group sprang in the wizard's direction, slashing and punching around themselves all along. They continued to run, using their surroundings in their advantage, as was typical for dwarven fighting style. First, Dwalin took a wooden pole and used it to knock groups of enemies down into the abyss, clearing the way. Óin borrowed the idea, and started swinging his staff around, knocking incoming goblins over the edge of the wooden bridges. Then, as they came to a steep rocky slope, Gandalf raised his staff, releasing a blast which cut a big boulder loose from the wall above them. The boulder started rolling down, taking groups of goblins with it as well, which they used to get through that part without a need for a fight.

Nobody turned to look behind, there was no time. The whole goblin town was hot on their heels, and even something as simple as a look back could mean the difference between outrunning your enemies or not. Gandalf ran ahead, surprisingly nimble for his age, the rest of them following close behind with the wood below them creaking under their weight.

It surprised everyone when the goblin king suddenly jumped from below the bridge in front of Gandalf, making the wizard stumble back. The big goblin smacked his lips, the sound about as disgusting as the creature making it. "You thought you could escape me?" Came out of him with a tinge of arrogance, before swinging a few times with his staff, half-assed swings that Gandalf had no problem evading. "What are you going to do now, wizard?"

By that time, the rest of the goblins caught up to them already, hissing and sneering at the group. Gandalf acted fast. He thrusted his staff into the goblin's eye, making him scream and reach his hand up to the hurt organ, then slashed with his sword, aiming at the goblin's abdomen. The sword cut through his flesh like butter; and the surprisingly easy fight was won in a matter of seconds.

His enemy fell on both knees, now holding his big round belly instead. Confusion was clear on his face as he looked up at the wizard, the realization of what just happened slowly sinking in. "That'll do it," was all he managed to say before Gandalf striked again, now cutting through his throat. The whole structure they were standing on shook as his now lifeless body came crashing down onto it. Everyone tried their best to stand upright, but then came the unmistakable sound of cracking wood, and what was coming next became pretty obvious.

Looking down, Thorin found out that the structure consisted of three layers of wooden platforms underneath each other, held together by wooden beams. It gave out a whine before the wood holding it on both sides finally split, then they started sliding down on the stone wall into the void below them, gathering speed. Luckily, they found themselves between two solid walls, which slowed the fall slightly as the structure was alternately ramming into both of them. Everyone held onto something for dear life as they came plummeting down, splinters and pieces of wood flying around. Part of the top platform broke away, creating a hole down to the middle platform which Thorin fell through, along with a few others. He stayed lying on his back, both mentally and physically preparing for the hard impact.

The landing, obviously, wasn't exactly soft, but it wasn't the worst case scenario either. The air was filled with grunts and groans for a few seconds, Bofur being the first one to comment on their fall. "Ah, that could've been worse," he said.

 _Don't jinx it_ , flashed through Thorin's head, and as if somebody was reading his thoughts, the goblin king's body suddenly landed on top of the structure as well, further squashing the group between the wooden planks. Luck had it that Thorin was on the edge, so the impact didn't affect him all that much.

However, Kíli was directly below where the goblin fell, along with Dwalin, who couldn't hold in his swear. "You've got to be joking!"

Thorin got out easily, helping the others too. Kíli shouting Gandalf's made him turn to look behind.

There was a horde of goblins coming down towards them from the other side of the chasm, nearing the group like a swarm of hungry flies. A pained whimper sounded from behind Thorin, making him turn back, towards the source. Garrett was trapped under the structure, unable to squeeze his way out. A lump formed in his throat, as he shot towards the man, shouting to others for help. Time was running short, their enemies getting closer with each passing second, and it took three of them to get him out. "I-I can't stand." Thorin looked down to see the man limping, leaning on Thorin's shoulder for support. When the man glimpsed the horde nearing them, he froze.

"There's too many. We can't fight them," Dwalin stated the obvious, while helping Nori stand up.

"Only one thing will save us - daylight!" supplied Gandalf. "Somebody help Garrett, we need to carry him out of here!"

"Leave me." _What?_ _!_ Thorin couldn't believe his ears, turning to glare at the man. Their eyes met, the moment enough for him to recognize the fear in Garrett's gaze. Yet, there was also determination in there, an emotion that was normally welcomed, but right at that moment, Thorin hated its presence. "I'd only slow you d-"

He was glad to see Fíli appeared on the other side of the man, quickly throwing Garrett's arm over his shoulders, Thorin doing the same with the other one. "Shut up, Garrett," he hissed through gritted teeth.

Fíli nodded, then started towards where the wizard was waiting for them. "Let's go."

Before Garrett could say anything, they were running, so he at least tried to use his good leg to help the two dwarves. "Go on, quick, quick!" was shouting Gandalf, as they ran through a narrow path, the screeching behind their backs urging them on further.

After long hours of darkness, there was finally light. They all sped up upon glimpsing the exit, all too eager to get out of the endless maze of darkness and stale air. His face brightened the moment the first sunbeams warmed his skin, leaving the cave behind him, but he didn't stop running even after getting to a relative safety. Not until they climbed down the hill through the forest surrounding the mountain, and the trees opened up in front of them to a clearing, where he sat Garrett onto the nearest boulder, diving in to inspect the injury. The bottom of one of the trouser's legs was already soaking red, up to the man's calf. He could see the leg shaking a little, no doubt from pain, but Garrett stayed calm otherwise, looking down at it with a frown. "I seem to be collecting injuries." The man had the guts to joke at this situation, earning him a glare from Thorin.

"That is no laughing matter," was Thorin's retort. Gandalf was shouting something behind him, but Thorin paid it no mind as he rolled up the fabric carefully to reveal the wound, praying to Mahal that it's nothing too serious.

Somebody's hand landed on his, Óin's face appearing a second after. "Let me, Thorin."

After a second of hesitation, he did as he was told. After all, he was no healer, and Óin's opinion weighted much more than his own. That didn't mean he didn't stay close while the other dwarf worked, though. The first thing the healer did was to have a quick look and poke around a bit, then he quickly bandaged the leg up to stop the bleeding. The whole time, Óin was glancing towards the nervous, fidgeting dwarf next to him with a raised eyebrow, unable to come up with any reason for his presence, but gave up soon when he realized the other dwarf wouldn't be leaving anytime soon. Instead, a smirk replaced the questioning look, while he continued to focus more on his work. Thorin's behaviour was unusual for him, Óin has never seen him so agitated over somebody else being hurt. Same thing applied for last night - even though Garrett's injury wasn't severe, Thorin looked worried out of his mind, and insisted on treating the wound himself, going as far as literally ripping the bandages out of Óin's hands. He couldn't help but wonder why that was so, but ultimately decided that it wasn't his business.

Thorin, oblivious to Óin's knowing expression, stood up when Gandalf shouted his name. The wizard wasted no time, speaking even before the dwarf was facing him. "Where is Bilbo?" That made Thorin tense, just now realizing that they haven't seen the hobbit since they fell down into the Goblin town. They were hoping he would make it out on his own, but if he wasn't here yet... When Thorin hasn't said anything, Gandalf repeated his question, now more demandingly. "Where is the hobbit."

"We don't know," Thorin finally confessed. "Last we saw him was when we fell down. Or, Garrett did. Apparently, he was able to slip away, but we haven't heard from him ever since." His response did nothing to smolder the worry in Gandalf's gaze. Thorin knew all too well what had to be running through the other's head. No doubt he had to want to go back for the halfling, and although Thorin would truly like to as well, he also knew that it was too risky, too dangerous to go back. Gandalf had to be aware of that, too. "There's nothing we can do, Gandalf. Only hope-"

"I never knew you to be one to cling to hope, Thorin!" Gandalf was seething now, which only served to make Thorin angry as well. How was this situation his fault?

He folded his arms on his chest, summoning his firm behaviour. "I'm not sending anyone in, only to risk them not making it back too."

"You won't have to," came a familiar voice from the direction they came from. All eyes shot towards the small, breathless man, who emerged from behind a tree.

Gandalf was the first person to get out of his shock. "Bilbo! I've never been so happy to see anyone in my whole life!"

A big boulder fell from Thorin's shoulders, for the first time finally breathing in the fresh air. Everyone took their turns in hugging the hobbit, Thorin being the last one to do so. By that time, Óin finished treating Garrett, who shuffled to Bilbo awkwardly with a bandaged leg and forearm, embracing him as well. A strange feeling welled up in Thorin's stomach at the sight, but he quickly stomped it down. He truly had to find out what was happening with him. Kíli noticed his reddened face, a snicker escaping him, for which the young dwarf earned a glare back.

Of course, the rejoice couldn't last long. They still weren't completely over how Bilbo escaped the goblins, before a howl sounded in the distance. It wasn't just an ordinary howl, Thorin could recognise that sound very well. It made his blood run cold, instantly on alert. Where there were wargs, orcs accompanied them too. Out of the blue, the air got heavier, even the sky began to cloud over, casting a shadow which was steadily spreading towards them.

"Out of the frying pan-" murmured Thorin.

"-And into the fire." finished Gandalf for him, already urging everyone to run.

He didn't waver, immediately at Garrett's side again, following the wizard. They didn't get very far before finding themselves trapped, only a precipice in front of them and trees the only refuge far and wide. Thorin could feel the chill on the back of his neck, as he helped Garrett climb up, the man surprisingly not needing much help. But he also knew that turning to look would only make things worse. The snarls of the wargs were enough of an indication, and when they appeared below the trees, one of the creatures almost reaching his leg, there was already no doubt.

Orcs appeared not a moment later, amongst them one that Thorin recognized all too well. He pushed away a branch to have a better view of the enemy, a single name coming out of him on an unbelieving breath. "Azog." He couldn't believe his eyes. That monstrosity was supposed to be long dead, yet here he was, mounting his usual white warg, looking the exact same as all that time ago.

The orc, pale skin and a warg of the same colour a stark contrast to the others, met his gaze, and with a triumphant glint in his eyes, a smirk appeared on the orc's scarred face before he made a show of sniffing the air just to mock Thorin. "Do you smell it?" he said, voice like ash. The sentence wasn't meant for Thorin, but for the hideous creatures accompanying him. "The scent of fear?" His eyes returned to Thorin yet again, addressing him directly now. "I remember your father reeked of it... Thorin, son of Thrain." An ugly smirk spread across the orc's dry lips, twisting his face into an even more monstrous sight.

"It cannot be." Thorin breathed out again. Some strange mixture of emotions stirred inside him, all of them flashing across his face in a quick succession. From disbelief, over fear, until he ultimately settled on anger. This monster, this abomination, might've taken his father's life, but he would not get him, or anyone else, too. A fire spread over his body, urging him to climb down and fight his old enemy, to run his sword through the orc's neck and spill the dark blood running through Azog's veins over the ground, hear him take his last breath, seeping for air before falling lifelessly to the ground. Thorin would make sure to avenge his father's and brother's deaths, and protect those he still could.

A hand on his shoulder pulled him forcibly out of his dark thoughts. Looking behind, he was met with two golden orbs filled with fear, before the hand slid down Thorin's arm, gently closing around his wrist. It was then that Thorin realized he was clutching his sword in a tight grip, the light blue glow of the blade shining brightly in the dusk. His eyes, however, never left the ones capturing him, which now shifted to a simple concern. "Thorin..." Garrett's whisper sounded loud in Thorin's messy mind. "There's too many, you can't go in alone."

"That one is mine," Azog roared, "Kill the others!"

Thorin didn't pay the orc any mind. Every sound disappeared, every thought flew out of his head, replaced by the thud of his own heart and the slowly calming breaths of both him and the man next to him. The time stopped for a moment, as the warmth of Garrett's hand became even hotter, the burning sensation sending Thorin's mind spinning. Slowly, he came to realize what he just almost did, and sheathed the sword again, Garrett's hand releasing the hold to let him perform the task. He immediately missed the feeling. His mind whirred with thoughts, feeling that he almost had the answer, to what this feeling was, in his grip. However, once again, he had to put it away for later, as there were more important things to do right at the moment.

Such as getting out of this alive.

The branch they were standing on started to shake violently with the tree, as wargs were trying to climb them up, leaping and snarling at the duo, snapping their mouths with each jump. A group of wargs formed under each tree the company was on, their collisions with the trees slowly but surely uprooting them. They all held onto whatever they could, but when the trees started to come crashing down, they were forced to jump to the next one, Thorin having hard time doing so while also helping Garrett. The man almost stumbled down once, making Thorin's heart clench before he, luckily, caught him.

Before long, they found themselves on the last tree, nothing but a long fall behind it. That's where the panic really settled in. There was nowhere for them to escape anymore. The wargs were closing in triumphantly, smacking their mouths in a promise of a tasty snack. However, they were forced to back off as a burning object fell down on them, the dry grass immediately catching on fire upon contact, leaving the wargs whining and backing away from the hungry tongues of flame.

Thorin whipped his head up to see Gandalf ignite another pinecone while shouting at Fíli to catch it. Taking the hint, everyone started grabbing pinecones and setting them on fire using already burning ones, then proceeded to throw them at their enemies. They cheered as the wargs couldn't get to them anymore, but their celebrating didn't last long. The roots of their sanctuary started cracking under the weight of the dwarves, twisting free from the rocky and dry earth, falling towards the void below.

They clung to every branch they could grasp, fearing the worst. The tree, luckily, stayed hanging by a thread, only few stubborn roots keeping it from tumbling down. Ori almost fell down, in the last moment catching onto Dori, who shouted for Gandalf's help. Thorin could see the others struggling as well.

He brought his gaze towards his enemies, in an instant catching Azog's stare. His blood started boiling again when the corner of the orc's mouth pulled up, everything else pushed aside. The whole world narrowed down to that one taunting smirk, as he stood up on the trunk, starting towards the orc with slow steps and a single purpose, oblivious to the shouts around him. He was completely blinded by thirst for revenge, face contorted with righteous rage.

Distinctly, he could hear the cries from the others, but Thorin still couldn't make out the words anyway. In the next moment, he was running at his enemy with a raised sword in one hand and an oaken shield in the other.

Blinded by rage, indeed, for he didn't get to even strike once before Azog's warg knocked him down, the impact leaving him gasping for air. Slowly, the realization of what was happening started sinking in. He tried to get up, unsteady legs buckling before he got hit by Azog's mace, falling to the ground again. Any more attempts were futile, as the white warg lifted him up in its mouth, the teeth running deep into his flesh. He managed to hit the creature over the head, being thrown away as a result, ending up on his back, holding his hands where the warg's teeth tore through his flesh.

"Bring me the Dwarf's head," boomed Azog's voice, and a second later, there was steel touching his neck. The orc that was sent to gather his head raised the sword, ready to strike down, and even though Thorin tried to reach for his sword, it was too far away. He couldn't move a muscle, feeling suddenly too weak.

That wasn't how he was supposed to die. It wasn't a death worthy of a king, and he still hasn't avenged his father. It was exactly how they said it would be, the moments before one dies. His whole life flashed in front of him as the world came to a halt. He remembered Erebor, a lonely mountain surrounded by plains, the most beautiful and richest of the dwarven kingdoms. His home. He remembered the day the dragon came, turning all of that to ash. How he struggled to get by, taking every job he could just to provide a roof above their heads, get food for all his kin. The night he met Gandalf in a pub, where the Istari told him of the chance to take back his home.

The moment a certain wolf joined them, Thorin thinking that the wizard was completely out of his mind. The nights he stayed up just to inspect the animal, curious, but turning his gaze into a glare everytime the wolf noticed. Then when he discovered who truly hid behind those enchanting eyes.

Garrett's smile from that first night, when he found the man sitting alone by the tree, was the last thing he saw, before the world started spinning again. Only he found no blade above himself anymore, only the flash of chestnut hair entering his vision. He looked over to see Bilbo stabbing the orc several times, before standing up, guarding Thorin with shaking arms.

It was the last thing Thorin saw before the world faded to black...

  
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The eagles arrived just in time. He struggled to even stand upright, let alone fight, but somehow, he managed.

He had to.

Since Thorin _rush-recklessly-into-enemies_ Oakenshield decided to, well, rush into their enemies like the idiot he was, and they had to come to the rescue. It was, however, a battle they held no chance of winning, and the only reason they made it out alive and with bodyparts still intact, was the eagles' appearance.

Daenar ended up held in one's claws, someone riding on the eagle as well. He probably could turn into a raven, even over the leg injury, but he didn't know if he could fly for very long, what with the exhaustion steadily seeping into his whole body. Thorin's limp body was being carried by an eagle flying next to his, Daenar finding his eyes turning that way more than often. He was worried, of course, but more than that, he was angry. The dwarf's seemingly null regard for his life shook him to his core. Never was he more terrified than at the moment he saw Thorin falling to the ground, or when the warg lifted him in its jaws. Even now, a chill ran down his spine whenever the scene flashed in front of his eyes.

He didn't know how long the flight took, but what he did know was that it was a while before the eagles dropped them off on a high rocky outcrop of land, one by one, with Thorin and Gandalf being the first two. A crowd soon gathered around the wizard, as he kneeled over Thorin's body, fourteen pairs of worried eyes watching him work, high-strung.

He released a long, exhausted breath when Thorin's chest suddenly rose with a sharp intake of breath and the dwarf shot up into a sitting position. The whole company relaxed, some laughing out of joy, others simply thanking their gods. Daenar did neither. As much as he was glad that Thorin was okay, he was also still beyond pissed. So, instead of waiting to congratulate His Majesty for the magnificent recovery, he simply waited until Gandalf was free, then asked to speak with him in private. They still weren't out of danger.

The two of them climbed down the rocky outcrop, Daenar being slower than the wizard, before he spilled out what was bothering him. "Even though we escaped the immediate danger for now, the orcs will still follow us. And they're far faster than we are."

A hum was Gandalf's initial response, as he pondered over their options. "Yes, that is correct. We will need to find a refuge somewhere." The man said it with a confidence of somebody, who already had a plan, which made Daenar raise an eyebrow in question. Gandalf took the hint. "There is such a place, not far from here, just two or three days' worth of walk. You are already familiar with that place, and the man who lives there..."

It took a moment for Daenar to realize who the other man meant, but when he did, his expression fell. Not because of the person Gandalf was talking about, but because there was something thwarting the wizard's plans. "Uncle Beorn hates dwarves." Beorn wasn't very fond of the wizard, either, but Daenar didn't feel Gandalf needed to be reminded of that fact. The only person the big man truly liked out of everyone present was Daenar, they shared a strange bond. Beorn was a skinchanger, meaning sometimes, he was a huge black bear, sometimes a strong man. Although he couldn't control the forms as Daenar could, it still meant they both had the ability to turn into animals. With Beorn's kind slaughtered by orcs, Azog himself leading them, Daenar was the closest to a family the man had. That was, indeed, also the reason Gandalf took him there at such a young age - to maybe find some solace in knowing there was somebody similar to him. Beorn quickly took him under his protective wing, as if Daenar was his own.

"But he likes you..." Gandalf trailed off pointedly.

"Are you asking me to take advantage of our relationship? Of Beorn?" A scoff escaped him. "I'm not going to trick him in such way."

Gandalf stayed calm, despite noticing Daenar's irritation. "You won't be tricking anyone, Daenar." Daenar tensed at hearing his name said out loud, but relaxed as he realized the rest of the company was out of earshot. "We only seek shelter for no more than a few days."

Despite disliking it, Daenar had to agree that they didn't have many more options. He rubbed his forehead with his index finger and thumb, a frown forming as well, as he could feel the telltale throb behind his skull, indicating that a headache was starting to bloom. This whole day took too many unexpected turns already. It was starting to be too much. "Fine," he found himself breathing out, throwing up his arms as the fight finally left him. "We'll do that, then. I see no other options, anyway."

A scrunching of rocks made him turn around, only to find Thorin making his way towards the two of them, holding the side of his abdomen where his wound was. For a second, Daenar's eyes softened, as the thoughts of what happened and how lucky the dwarf was to be alive took over his mind. However, then he remembered that he was still hopping mad at the dwarf, and his eyes turned to ice in the next second, meeting Thorin's shocked ones. _Oh, so he's surprised by my rage, good_.

He turned back, addressing Gandalf with a monotone voice. "I'd appreciate it if you could tell our leader what our next move is." Then, as he realized the way he spoke to the wizard, he added an embarrassed 'please', before limping away, paying no mind to Gandalf's curious eyes flicking between his retreating back and Thorin, and to Thorin's confused gaze.

The rest of the day, he avoided everyone completely, walking ahead of the group in wolf form. A limping wolf had to be a pretty comical sight, but he didn't give a damn. They traveled faster than expected, and were just less than a day away from Beorn's house as the night fell. The company found a cave to sleep in, completely surrounded by the forest, with only a small clearing in front of the entrance. After a thorough inspection of the place, Garrett deemed it unoccupied by any animal, therefore safe for them to stay the night. Thorin, however, rather gave an order not to make a fire, just to make sure they don't give out their position. There were still enemies out there looking for them.

In spite of all the work he put into keeping his distance from Thorin, he was all too aware of the fact that it would be near impossible to do so now, when they had to stay under one ceiling. He tried, of course, not having the nerves to have that conversation with Thorin just yet. However, he sensed the dwarf's gaze follow him everywhere he went, almost feeling Thorin's compulsion to walk up to him.

It was when Daenar was coming back with water from a nearby river, as Bofur asked him to bring some, that the inevitable clash happened. He was just a minute or two from the cave, when he noticed a lone figure leaning on a tree, with hands crossed and seeming to look out into the distance. He jumped at first, startled as he was deep in his thoughts - something that shouldn't happen to him and that he reprimanded himself for internally. A curse escaped his lips, alerting the person, who pushed away from the tree upon hearing him and stepped closer. He didn't have to see their face to know who it was.

Thorin looked nervous, same as how Daenar felt. "You startled me," he said after a moment of silence. Thorin's apology came fast. However, the dwarf didn't move out of the way, nor did he say anything more, as silence stretched between the two again. "I, uh, need to get this to Bofur..." Daenar tried to walk past the dwarf, holding the waterskin in front of himself in order to squeeze through.

He was stopped by a hand shooting to get ahold of his arm, preventing him from getting very far. His initial instinct was to jerk out of the clasp, which was met with next to no resistance as Thorin's hold wasn't luckily very firm. The movement, however, visibly surprised the dwarf, who kept the hand in the air, only turning it palm up as soon as he got out of his shock. "You shouldn't put too much weight on your leg just yet. Here, let me help."

He went to take the waterskin from him, but Daenar held it out of arm's length. "What about your injuries?" He said, voice not giving way to any emotion whatsoever.

The question visibly caught Thorin by surprise, but his response came fast nevertheless. "My wounds are mostly healed. The teeth didn't go too deep, and my armor took most of the damage done by Azog's mace."

"... Why were you out cold for the entirety of the flight, then?" Continued Daenar's interrogation. There was something Thorin was hiding, and he would dig it out if it meant using any means necessary.

"... I passed out from exhaustion."

"Or the pain." He knew he hit the jackpot when Thorin winced a tiny bit. The dwarf was pretty good at keeping a poker face, but Daenar had him all figured out already, he knew how to look for the small tugs and movements that allowed him to see through the facade. And right now, even in the dim light of the moon, he knew he didn't just imagine the tug in the corner of the other's mouth. He let the words hang in the air, giving Thorin enough time to try and defend himself, and only when the silence went on for too long did he continue - while limping past the dwarf. "You may be able to fool Óin, but not me. You're supposed to rest for a while."

"I can't!" Thorin's raised voice made Daenar look over his shoulder, finding the dwarf a step closer. "You have been avoiding me the whole day, and right after I woke up, you looked like you were almost angry that I'm still alive, and... I simply don't understand. I don't understand what I did to deserve the cold shoulder."

Daenar couldn't believe his ears. "You don't unders-..." Both his body and voice shook, though if it was with anger or something else, he didn't know. He rounded on Thorin. "You almost threw away your life, Thorin. You were willing to walk into a fight you had no chance of winning - come on, you're not dumb, you had to know how that one was going to end, one way or another! All of that while I couldn't even scramble up and help you, only watch on helplessly as you're falling to the ground. I've seen you get lifted up in that maw like a rag, and thought that you would die in front of my eyes. If it wasn't for Bilbo, your head wouldn't be sitting on that neck - which wouldn't actually matter since you don't use it anyway!" He stepped closer, seething now. "Next time you decide to get eaten alive, let me know in advance, so I can punch you first. Maybe the lights in your brain, if you have one that is, will finally turn on and you'll see past the big wall you call 'pride' which you cower behind like a scared puppy!" He was left breathless by the end, head swimming and vision clouded by rage.

He lowered his voice when he spoke next, though the acidity still remained. "When will you finally realize it? You are the most important member of this group and should something happen to you, then that's it, this quest is over, all has been for nothing. We can protect you from orcs, wolves, but we can't protect you from your own stupidity!"

With that reaching its end, Daenar finally felt like he said all he wanted, and willed himself to calm his breathing. He started to notice how tired he was, how much the leg actually hurt, and although the hand was fine, he also realized he must have soaked the bandage in the river by accident, and it now stung like pricking needles as a result. His eyes never left Thorin's blue ones filled with shock, searching for some kind of regret. When he found it, he broke the contact and excused himself, that Bofur was expecting to receive the water ages ago. He whirled around, intent on putting as much space between himself and Thorin as possible.

That turned out to be a mistake, as a sharp pain shot up his leg, making his vision blur. The next thing he knew, he was falling towards the ground with nothing to hold onto.

His meeting with the dirt was, however, prevented by an arm around his waist, which then gently pulled him back up until he was securely standing again, then it released him to take the waterskin, which Thorin quickly moved to his other hand and wordlessly offered this arm as a support. All the while Daenar, with gritted teeth, tried to wade through the daze that overcame his mind, only the pain in his leg managing to get through. He must have twisted it too harshly and reopened the wound, amazing.

It was only when he noticed the offered arm that he started to notice the world around him again. He met Thorin's gaze, looking between the dwarf's eyes and the arm, mind still unsure what to make of the gesture. "What are you doing?"

"I'm not going to watch you limp your way back to the camp."

When Daenar finally realized what the dwarf meant, he frowned and pursed his lips, watching the arm for a second, but ultimately turned and made two unsteady steps towards the camp - on his own. "I don't need help." He was all to aware of the fact that he was acting like a brat, but there was this stubborn part of him that refused to accept help - not from Thorin.

However, at the same time, he couldn't keep the pain from being reflected on his face, and Thorin must've noticed, as he hummed, nonplussed, and caught up to him. "Why am I not convinced?" Daenar didn't resist his arm being thrown over the dwarf's shoulders, but sent a glare his way anyway. That stopped Thorin from continuing any further, until he finally released a tired sigh. "You're right." Daenar's glare dissipated, confusion replacing it. Thorin's gaze turned distant, and Daenar felt his shoulders tense. "I wasn't thinking straight back there. As far as I knew, Azog died in Moira. His death was the only consolation I had, the only reason I could even stand in front of my father's and grandfather's graves without feeling like a complete failure." The rage building inside Thorin as he spoke didn't slip Daenar's notice, though he didn't pay it much mind. Thorin never spoke of his family, or the Battle of Azanulbizar, so this came as a surprise. "Finding out that even this small comforting knowledge was untrue this whole time, that I have been deprived of even that... I just couldn't handle it. I should've been able to hold it together, not bend under the pressure, not give in to that primal rage-" Thorin suddenly cut himself off there, working his jaw for a second. Then, in the blink of an eye, the anger was gone, and he released a long sigh, eyes soft when they met Daenar's again. "I won't deny it, I messed up big time, but you have to know, I have learned my lesson. I will not let my emotions get ahold of me like that again."

"I will need you to promise." He tilted his head to the side, a smile finally gracing his lips. It was enough to relax Thorin a little. "You kings have this weird unspoken rule that you always keep true to a given word, don't you? So I want you to give you my word, at this very moment." He took a deep breath, puffing his chest out as a show. "I, Thorin Oakenshield," he began, attempting to mimic the dwarf's voice. "Repeat after me." Thorin seemed unamused by Daenar's attempt to sound like him, but repeated the words anyway. "Swear on my crown,"

"Swear on my crown..."

"That I shall never,"

"That I shall never..."

"Ever ever,"

The dwarf cocked an eyebrow at that, but said the words nevertheless.

"Act like a dumbass again."

A long pause followed, as Thorin looked at him like he was insane. "...You can't be serious."

"That's not how it went, Thorin!" Daenar tsked playfully, shaking his head. "Can you seriously not follow such simple instructions? You're hopeless."

"You are truly incredible. And not in the good way."

"Nuh uh, all I'm hearing is a lot of excuses and evading. Try again." Thorin was left with no choice but to sigh in frustration, and repeat the words. Under his beard. "What was that?" Asked Daenar, clearly enjoying himself, almost way too much so. "Couldn't hear you, you have to speak up."

"... I will never act like a dumbass again."

"Now repeat the whole thing again? Just so we're clear."

Daenar briefly wondered whether he took it too far, as Thorin's look turned near murderous. However, before he could say anything, Thorin beat him to it. "I, Thorin Oakenshield, swear on my life-"

"-Crown-"

"Crown, that I shall never act like a... dumbass, again."

His eyes glistened with triumph, smile widening, which only served to irritate Thorin even more. "Wasn't so hard now, was it?"

Thorin chose not to reply to that question. Instead, he made sure Daenar was holding on tight, and put his own arm around the man's waist, resuming their walk. His comment was but a murmur, but it wasn't low enough that Daenar couldn't catch it. "Who is insufferable now?"

It was all Daenar could do not to bowl over with laughter, managing to only release a few suppressed laughs and giggles, almost too pleased with himself. Thorin tried to look irritated, but Daenar was not entirely out of it - he noticed the tiny smirk on the dwarf's face, which stayed there until they reached their destination.

 


	8. Conflicting Emotions

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**Chapter 8**  
**Conflicting Emotions**

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It was insane. Both the wizard and Garrett were completely bonkers. Thorin again looked towards the house they were supposed to be staying a few nights in. The whole place was standing in the middle of a field, with the forest they were hiding in surrounding it from both west and south, and the dark Mirkwood forest from east. He couldn't see the building itself, only the roof, as it was hidden behind a thorny hedge forming a circle around the whole grounds, but judging by how much of the land was encompassed, the place had to be huge, probably enough to fit in several of those houses. A single high, broad wooden gate was the only entrance through the hedge, which was also what they saw a huge bear walk through not even ten minutes ago.

They already told him that the bear was somebody named Beorn, and that he was actually a skinchanger, something similar to Garrett, but not entirely the same. Garrett tried to explain it to him, but gave up a few seconds in, exclaiming that it wasn't all that important. What was important, though, was that this... Beorn, already knew Garrett, and the man could convince the skinchanger to let them stay for a while. Which matched what Gandalf told him the day before. However, they forgot to mention one, to them seemingly unimportant, fact. To Thorin, though, this fact weighted a lot.

Garrett was supposed to go in alone.

Now, he quite understood that the man and this Beorn were very close, but at the sight of the bear, Thorin was a little skeptical to let Garrett waltz in all by himself; especially when he admitted that the bear and the skinchanger didn't exactly share one mind, despite being the same... person? Creature? The big man, apparently, could be reasoned with, whereas the bear was unpredictable at best.

That didn't exactly set his mind at ease.

Which was how they found themselves in a heated argument, that later resulted in Thorin going in together with Garrett. The man seemed irritated by that fact, but soon, as the duo embarked towards the gate, he relaxed. As opposed to Thorin, who grew more anxious the closer they got. Garrett seemed to sense his discomfort, and couldn't help but comment on it with a snort. "Why did you want to come along again?" A glare was enough of a response for the man to stop teasing Thorin, opting to comfort him instead. "I understand your concerns, Thorin, but you need not worry. I told you, I won't be under any danger. Uncle Beorn wouldn't hurt me."

That gave his whirring thoughts a pause. "He's... your uncle?"

Garrett blinked at him at first, trying to process what he said, before he came to an abrupt halt and burst into laughter, doubling over and holding his abdomen. It earned him another glare. "N-no, no, heh, he isn't." He said after getting out of the fit, wiping the tears from his face. "I have no relatives. None that I know of, that is."

They continued on walking again after that. Thorin already guessed the man didn't have anyone in his life beside Gandalf, but he still winced internally upon hearing his guess was correct, and although the man seemed pretty okay with that fact, he couldn't help but sympathize. He didn't express anything, though - from what he knew about Garrett so far, any kind words wouldn't be much appreciated. In fact, the man would probably rather forget all his memories and leave them in the past, if he got the chance. Thorin had a feeling the man was hiding much more from them, that what they knew about him were only the necessary parts, the tip of the iceberg. Strangely, he felt a desire to know what was hiding under the water, too.

Before long, they were standing in front of the gate, which looked even more massive up close. It gave out a creak as Thorin leaned into one side of it to push it open, his not yet fully healed wounds protesting against the strain. He winced at the sound. As soon as Garrett deemed the gate open enough, the man put a hand on his shoulder and told him to walk behind him, then squeezed through to get to the front. Thorin couldn't argue with that, it was only logical for Garrett to walk first. He went through the gate, too, surveying the place. A wide track opened in front of them, leading towards the big building with two wings, situated in the middle of the place, which had to be the house. Surrounding it was a cluster of smaller buildings, from which Thorin could recognize a barn, stables and a shed. A row of bell-shaped bee hives was on the right side, and in front of the house stood a great oak stump with a big pile of chopped wood near it. Standing by the stump was a big man with greyish-brown hair, a forked beard, and a mane of hair growing as a ridge down the length of his back. He was holding an axe, just about to bring it down to cut another log in half. The sound of steel meeting with wood cut through the air, before the giant turned to inspect the newcomers.

A lump formed in Thorin's throat. The man looked like he could tear the two of them in half with bare hands. However, he didn't let his fear show, returning the gaze with his filled with confidence. Garrett moved forward then, whispering. "It takes a while for him to recognize faces - he's getting old. Don't say that in front of him, though." He had the audacity to snicker, while Thorin couldn't even bring himself to move.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

The big man drove the axe into the trunk, leaving the tool there, before addressing them with a voice like thunder. "Who dares walk in here, uninvited?"

While in his state of shock, he didn't notice Garrett making his way closer, but quickly caught up to him as soon as he noticed, eyes immediately returning to the giant that now stood dangerously close to them. When Garrett bowed, he did, too, but his eyes never left the skinchanger's figure while Garrett spoke. "Uncle Beorn, it's nice to see you again."

The just a moment ago frightening man's face brightened with the widest smile Thorin has ever seen anyone conjure up. "Daenar!" The gian roared excitedly. "What brings you to come visit me?" The name Beorn used was unfamiliar to Thorin, maybe it was some sort of nickname. He stood aside reluctantly while the big man walked to Garrett and picked him up, pulling him into a hug. Despite the excitement, though, Thorin could see Beorn was mindful of his strength, making sure he didn't crush Garrett in the process.

The other man spoke as soon as he was standing on his legs again, pating the giant's hands happily. "I've missed you, uncle. How have you been?"

"Oh, you know, there's not much one can do around here, I'm more curious about what you've been up to all that time. But we'll get to that later." The giant's eyes found Thorin's, the air turning more serious. "First, I think you should introduce me to your friend."

"Ah, yes, forgive my manners." Garrett cleared his throat. "This is Thorin. Thorin, Beorn."

Beorn extended his hand for a handshake, which Thorin took, unsure of what to expect. It was obvious the skinchanger wasn't happy about his presence. Luckily, the handshake ended up fine. Fine as in, Thorin's arm was still attached to his body. Beorn seemed to notice something was wrong. "This is no simple visit, Daenar, is it?" There was that nickname again.

Garrett looked apologetic. "Yes, that'd be right. I- We need your help. There are orcs hunting us-"

" _Orcs?_ " the man spat the word out like poison. "If there is one thing I dislike more than dwarves, it's those hideous, bloodthirsty monsters." If he hated orcs as much as he was saying, then there was a high chance he would help them. Beorn seemed to ponder for a moment, before he turned to Thorin again. "How many of you are there?"

"With the two of us, sixteen," he responded simply, to which Beorn only nodded before addressing Garrett yet again.

"Bring them here, and join me in the dining room. You know how to make your way around here already. As for you," The giant's focus turned back to Thorin. "I need to talk to you, in private."

Even Garrett seemed puzzled by Beorn's request, but only shot Thorin an apologetic smile and mouthed a 'don't worry', before leaving the two of them alone. Beorn spoke once Garrett was out of earshot. "So, you are the one they call Oakenshield." The giant's eyes sparked upon seeing Thorin stiffen. "Tell me, why is Azog the Defiler hunting you?"

He managed to keep his voice from shaking, even over the hammering of his heart. "You know of Azog? How?"

The giant gave no response as he turned around, grabbing some of the chopped wood and motioning for Thorin to do the same. He did as he was told, following him into the building after. "Birds told me that the monster was close. I hate that pile of filth more than anything else in this godforsaken world." A second of silence stretched between them, before Beorn continued. "My people were first living in the mountains, before the orcs came down from the north. The Defiler killed most of my family, but some, he enslaved." As soon as they entered the house, the scent of pine and hay filled his nostrils. "Not for work, you understand. But for sport. Caging skinchangers and torturing them seemed to amuse him."

As they continued making their way through the house, they walked past a goat, who eyed him curiously with that sort of wonder reserved only for unusual things. Despite that, though, the animal didn't move, only her gaze following them. It made Thorin wonder whether Beorn let his livestock walk around the house freely, or whether this was just a rare occurrence. The former was probably more possible, as he heard several chickens in what seemed like a very heated animal conversation while they were passing a door. He almost asked about that fact, it seemed strange to him, but decided against it in the last moment. "There are others like you?" He found himself asking instead.

"Once, there were many."

"Now?" They came into a spacious, wide hall with a high ceiling, and a row of pillars on either side of the hall. In the middle of the room was a line dug into the ground, most definitely a fireplace, tables on both sides of it. Taking the hint, Thorin put his pile of wood down onto the ground next to the fireplace.

"Now, there's only one."

A pang of pity shot through him. "My apologies, I didn't mean to-"

"-Which is why I need you to make a promise to me." The big man turned to him then, his whole demeanor changing suddenly. "Take it as the payment for my hospitality." He looked Thorin straight in the eyes with the next words. "It's about Daenar. He is the only one I care about more than my own life. I want you to keep the boy safe."

His curiousness spiked again. This was the third time the giant addressed Garrett as 'Daenar'. Now, he seriously needed to ask the man about it. He pushed that thought away for later, though. "I'll do everything that's in my power to make sure no harm comes to him. Unfortunately, I can't guarantee his safety, as the journey ahead of us is still full of dangers."

Beorn seemed to understand, nodding his head. "I know what the purpose of your quest is, knew it the moment I heard your name. You're heading to the Lonely Mountain, to reclaim Erebor." His eyebrows furrowed. "You won't make it in time, however, if you don't go through Mirkwood. That forest isn't safe. Evil settled in, as the Duke of Mirkwood turned his back on his land, locking himself behind the walls of his city, cowering behind them like the coward he is."

A third voice joining in made them turn towards the newcomer. "Thranduil's mind is blinded by grief and fear, has been for decades," said Gandalf.

Beorn scoffed, although if it was because of what Gandalf said or the wizard himself, Thorin couldn't tell. The rest of the company trailed in after the man, as well, with Garrett closing the group. Thorin's mind wandered again to the name Beorn kept on using, before shaking the thoughts away, putting on a smile instead. He would ask about it later, when they were alone. It surely was just a nickname the two used only between themselves, nothing more.

They gathered around the two tables then, talking about their plans from now on, the conversation soon turning to more unimportant things. Half an hour later, they were laughing and joking around, forgetting about the journey completely, if only for a while. Beorn served them enough food to fill their stomachs for three days straight, not minding the little hole it made in his enormous supplies, and although he strictly didn't eat meat, therefore only having cheese, eggs, and other products which didn't involve an animal dying, the dwarves didn't protest. A little later, the big man left them alone while going for a walk with Garrett.

It was in the middle of one of Dwalin's stories that Thorin noticed Garrett was still missing, along with Gandalf. When he asked Kíli, who he saw talking to him last, where the wizard disappeared to, the young dwarf said that last he heard of him, Gandalf went to search for Garrett. It seemed strange to him that they both disappeared, being gone the whole night. Especially Garrett, whom he didn't see eat much. Excusing himself, Thorin picked up a bowl of grapes, to bring at least some food to the man, and went to search for him.

The house was already buried under the blanket of the night, and Thorin cursed himself for forgetting to bring a torch or at least a candle with him. Luckily, the moon shone brightly tonight, saving him from tripping over his legs. It took him a while to search the whole house, but ultimately, he discovered that the man wasn't inside. Unless he was hiding, which seemed unlikely, he had to be somewhere outside. At least he had limited ground to search through.

Stepping out of the house, he didn't have to look around much to find out where Garrett most likely went to, as there was light coming from the stables. He immediately made a beeline for the building, stopping just metres shy of the big, slightly ajar door. There were voices coming from inside, and although he disliked to eavesdrop, he couldn't help but overhear a bit of the conversation. It was enough for him to stop in his tracks.

Gandalf's voice was easily recognizable. "-and they've heard of you, that a man with golden eyes and the ability to assume the form of a wolf passed through Rivendell, do not think that they aren't already on your track. I fear this journey is no longer safe for you."

The voice that answered was none other than Garrett's. "Do you even know what you're asking for, Gandalf? I can't just... stop here. What would I tell the others?"

"The truth," replied the wizard sternly. "You've done enough already, I think. It is not worth risking your discovery, especially by _them_. You know very well what they are capable of."

Thorin stepped next to the door, and leaned on the wall. The sound of rustling came from the inside, before Garrett continued. "I appreciate your concern, but-"

"-But you won't leave the company, anyway. Yes, I feared you might say that. Tell me, is Thorin the reason for your decision?" It was said with mild irritation, and Thorin wondered what the reason behind the wizard's words was.

A second of silence met Gandalf's question. "Are you trying to imply something, Gandalf?" Garrett's voice carried a hint of nervosity mixed with anger.

A scoff was the response. "Do not try to hide it from me, Daenar. I may be old, but I am no fool, I saw the fleeting looks between you two-" Thorin's eyes grew twice their size, while Garrett let out an angry 'what?!', which Gandalf paid no mind at all. "And how he fussed over you-"

"-Thorin is my friend," interrupted Garrett, seemingly through gritted teeth, "Same as every other member of the Company. And, because it seems like you've already forgotten, I haven't had anyone to call a friend since..." Garrett cut himself off there, then more rustling could be heard, which Thorin placed as a sound like somebody standing up from a stack of hay. "They accepted me as I am, and I shall repay that kindness and help them reclaim their home no matter the cost!" The conversation turned argument was getting increasingly more heated.

Gandalf sounded like he could rip out his hair in frustration. "Must you be so stubborn? Can you not see the danger you're putting yourself _and_ them in?" A brief pause followed. "Or have you not yet considered that your pursuers may harm them, too?"

It seemed like Garrett's demeanor turned upside down, if his voice, now weak contrary to how it was before, was anything to go by. "I... No..."

Gandalf gave him a few moments. "It would be wiser to stop here, I'm sure they will understand if you explain the situation-"

"-Gandalf, please, stop." Thorin sensed the conversation slowly coming to an end, and wondered whether he should disappear, but ultimately decided to stay right where he was. "You're right. Damn, you're right, but I will have to think about this still. I can't run from my past forever."

A few seconds of silence passed, before Gandalf sighed in resignation. "Fine. Do as you will, Daenar, but you've been warned of the consequences your decision may have." Thorin braced himself as footsteps could be heard, pressing himself more against the wall. The stable door swung open, hinges creaking under the pressure, as Gandalf stormed outside, one of the door's wings luckily covering Thorin. Not like it mattered, as it seemed Gandalf's vision narrowed to a single line and he wouldn't notice Thorin even if they outright bumped into eachother.

He watched the wizard's figure disappear towards the house, then tensed as he heard sounds of movement from within the stables, and, almost immediately after... a sheep? Thorin pushed away from the wall, and, with a newfound curiosity, walked around the door wing, peeking inside. There was a wide corridor with stone floor, going from one side of the building to the other, effectively dividing the building into two sections, and on both sides of the corridor were open stalls with the floor covered by hay. A few animals were gathered in the back of the building, but he couldn't see them clearly as they were in the dark. However, a burning torch was placed in a handle on the wall next to him, casting light onto a sheep standing not far from Thorin. Next to the sheep stood Garrett, scratching the animal under its chin, but he retreated his hand when Thorin revealed himself. The sheep released a baa, before scurrying away, leaving Garrett standing there alone. "Thorin, what are you doing here?" The man smiled, but Thorin could see the strain in the expression.

Thorin's thoughts went briefly back to the conversation he overheard. He moved closer, being next to the man in three long strides. "I was looking for you, you disappeared." Extending his hand with the bowl of grapes, he continued. "I just thought you might be hungry?"

Garrett smiled, a genuine smile now, before taking the bowl from his hand. "I- thank you. Sorry that I left you all without saying a word, there... was something I had to discuss with Gandalf."

Thorin cleared his throat, pointing behind himself with a thumb. "Yes, I just saw him leave. He looked pretty upset, if I had to say. Is everything all right?" He tried, watching closely for Garrett's reaction.

The spark of hesitation in the other's eyes didn't slip his notice, and neither did the falter of his expression or gaze turning downcast. But what came out of the man wasn't what Thorin wanted to hear, even if it was, in all honesty, what he anticipated. "Yes, yes, everything is fine, we just had a little... disagreement, is all."

Thorin raised an eyebrow, folding his arms over his chest. "Garrett..." The man seemed to shrink in on himself under the scrutinizing look. It took but a moment before the mask was given up on altogether, and Garrett turned around, trotting over to a block of hay, on which he plopped down with face in his hands, grapes placed behind him and forgotten. He mumbled something incoherent, to which Thorin stepped closer, taking care not to invade the man's personal space. "What is going on? You know you can tell me."

Slowly, hesitantly, Garrett dropped his hands into his lap, shoulders slumped and eyes roaming. "I... There is something you should know." A hum came out of Thorin, suggesting he goes on. However, Garrett couldn't seem to get a single word out, twiddling his thumbs with an increasing intensity. Eventually, he stood and started pacing, which worried Thorin. Maybe this was more serious than he thought. "May we..." began the man, catching Thorin's attention again. "May we talk about this tomorrow, please? I feel tired, and would rather retire to my room for the night."

"Your room?"

"Ah, yes, Beorn built a special room for me." The change of topic seemed to have loosened the tense knot in the air, bit by bit.

He wasn't all over the moon about postponing this, but let the man be, for now. "In that case," He came standing next to the man, not forgetting the grapes behind. "May I walk you there?"

This time, Garrett took the yet again offered bowl and immediately plopped a grape into his mouth, sighing contently. "Mm, bringing me food and making sure I get safely to my room?" The man chuckled, and started towards the barn's exit, Thorin walking right next to him. "Since when did you become my entourage, Thorin?"

Thorin offered a scoff in response. "You think too highly of yourself." He took the torch from the handle as they were passing it, before they made their way out of the stables, not bothering to close the door. He noticed Garrett still limping slightly, but decided against offering to help; it wouldn't go appreciated.

They walked side by side in slow pace, exchanging small talk, enjoying the other's company. Garrett led him through the house, and Thorin was surprised how big the building actually was - much more than what he thought upon the first glance. Before long, though, they came to a tall door which looked like one big solid peace of wood, with various animal drawings engraved into the material, some looking masterfully carved, while with others, it was hard to recognize the animal they were supposed to represent. Thorin saw the other man put the torch into a holder by the door, then trace some of the carvings with his hand, a dreamy smile on his lips, and he couldn't help but wonder what the story behind them was.

Before he could ask, Garrett started talking on his own, while pointing at one of the worse-looking carvings. "It started as an accident. The second time I was here, Beorn surprised me with a special room that he made for me to stay in while I'm here. I was... twelve or thirteen back then, can't remember very clearly now. What I do remember, however," he moved his fingers over the crooked lines, before moving onto another carving. "Is how incredibly touched and happy I was. However, the very next day, we were moving some items in, and I've accidentally made a scratch on the door. I, heh, I started panicking, thinking I ruined everything. Then Beorn got the idea to try to make the scratch into something beautiful, and so I did. Try, I mean." A snort escaped him, while he shook his head. "This is far from beautiful, I believe it was supposed to be a sheep and ended up as... well... this poor creature."

He had to admit, it looked pretty bad, but he couldn't tell that to the man. "I think it looks... decent, if we take into consideration how young you were."

"Oh, come on, I know it looks awful, stop trying to boost my child ego. Although, I have to say, I was actually pretty happy about my creation back then." Then he pointed at a beautifully carved wolf head. "This is what Beorn made right after. And since then, everytime I visited, we would each carve a single animal into the door."

Thorin's eyes quickly swept over the whole door. It was filled with carvings, almost no space left untouched. "You've been here quite often, then," he mumbled.

Garrett let him look for a moment, before pushing the door open.  "Let me just light the place up..."

Thorin took the torch, stepping inside too. The room wasn't neither big nor small, just big enough to fit in a tall bed by the far wall, a table with two chairs in the middle, and an armoire on the right. Three rows of shelves with books decorated the left wall, and a big window was above the bed. The whole room looked very cozy. Garrett took the torch from him as he was glancing over the place, using it to light a candle and place it on the table. He then proceeded to douse the torch in a bucket of water next to the armoire, leaving only the soft light of the candle illuminating the room.

"Pretty comfy, isn't it?" said Garrett while sitting down onto the bed, propping himself back on his arms. "Beorn likes to spoil me."

He sat down next to the man, finding the surface he sat on surprisingly soft and fluffy. "It sure is."

His companion let himself fall back with eyes closed, putting a hand under his head, and the other on his chest. A comfortable silence filled the room, as Thorin just watched the slow rise and fall of Garrett's chest, seeing the hand on it move with every breath. Something stirred inside him at the sight; something confusing, not yet explored, almost primal. He became all to aware of the situation they were in, that this would be a perfect moment to lean down...

The thought was quickly squashed away, as Thorin stood abruptly, willing his heart to calm down. Garrett, of course, noticed, opening his eyes and peering up at him. Thorin wasted no time. "I can see you truly must be tired, so I will take my leave, you should catch some sleep." He almost flew towards the door, turning in the doorway to look back at the other man. He gave him no time to respond. "I will talk to you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, yeah of course," Came the response. "I, uh... Is the morning good with you? After breakfast?" Garrett still sounded confused, but apparently decided not to pry.

He agreed with a sharp nod. "Works with me. I will see you tomorrow, then, have a good night."

"You too," mumbled the man,  frown on his face, but Thorin was already closing the door by then, and practically running down the corridor. As soon as he deemed himself 'safe', he leant fully on the nearest wall and banged his head on it, taking in deep breaths.

He was now almost certain he knew exactly what was happening to him, but had yet to confirm it. Luckily, he knew of someone who would know more, and hoped he could still catch the person before they all went to sleep. With mind set on a goal now, Thorin started in the direction of the dining room. This couldn't wait, he would get the answers tonight if it meant waking the object of his interrogation up.


	9. Occupied Minds

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**Chapter 9**  
**Occupied Minds**

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Thorin paced around the room, chewing on the white knuckles of his balled fist. The single candle placed on the table was barely enough to illuminate his face, but nobody truly needed to see his expression in order to know what emotions swirled inside his brain at the moment. A pair of curious eyes watched the scene from where their owner sat at the table, amused but also worried, as to him, such behaviour was a first from Thorin.

"Why do you want to know? Besides, I thought you were taught all 'bout this stuff an' more, ya should be more educated than me."

Thorin released the bite he had on his hand in order to speak. His pacing never stopped, only slowed down and sped up randomly. "Sure, but I have never... experienced it, really, you know? You're the only one here that I know of who has had first-hand experience, recently at least, thus, I came to you with this."

"Is there a specific reason you need to know now?" Was what Dwalin asked, knowing he struck home when Thorin faltered to answer. "Oh, Mahal's holy buttocks, there is, right? Just tell me it isn't the giant, please? Cuz I ain't gonna lie, that'd be mighty fucked up."

At last, he stopped moving around, staring at Dwalin with what could only be described as horror. "Dwalin, what the hell! No!" How could that even cross that idiot's mind? "Of course not."

"Then who-" A dangerous spark glimmered in Dwalin's eyes, mouth tugging up in a smirk. Thorin felt his stomach drop. "-Is it Garrett?"

He frantically rifled through his mind, searching for an answer that wouldn't give out so much, but failed miserably. This interrogation was going fubar since the start, he should've known that would be the case. "The matter of _who_ doesn't concern you!" He tried to salvage the situation, aware that the needy tone of his voice probably gave away more than if he would just keep his mouth shut.

"Sweet Mother's tits it is him." Dwalin slapped the table then, roaring with laughter, making Thorin flinch. "I ain't never seen you with anyone but I can tell Bilbo's babyface ain't yer type and if it was anyone from the dwarves, you woulda found out long ago."

"Can you at least keep your voice down, you useless oaf?!"

"You wish, you only don't want everyone to hear how much you desire Garrett's dick!"

In a flash, Thorin was bent over the table and dragged Dwalin out of his seat by the hem of the dwarf's shirt, snarling into his face. "I swear, one more useless word falls out of your mouth, and I'm going to cut your tongue out." Keeping the murderous expression he now wore, he released the shirt, after which Dwalin sank back into the chair, hard. Thorin hoped it hurt. He straightened back up with arms crossed. "Now, I want answers. If I won't get them out of you the easy way, I'll use force. And do not even think I wouldn't."

"All right, all right, geez. You're scaring me, Thorin." The smirk didn't leave Dwalin's face, but at least it seemed like he finally took this more seriously. Question was, how long could it remain that way for.

Thorin frowned, but didn't relent. "Speak."

"What do ya want to know, exactly?"

It was important he chooses his words carefully. One wrongly formed sentence and he risked losing the other dwarf to another laughing fit. From how long he has known Dwalin for, he already knew how quickly his brain could switch to lewd and generally inappropriate things if given the chance. "How you found out Ori was your One. In detail. Describe what you felt."

"You do realize the symptoms vary, Thorin, do ya? And how fast you know. Some couples even hate eachother at first, for some it may take years to figure out their souls are linked. This matter is not that simple."

He was aware of all of that already. "I know, I just need something, anything, to go by."

"It is also possible that what you're feelin' is simple want, as cruel as that may sound. That happens a lot, too. Combined with the fact that havin' yer One to be of another race is pretty damn rare, I'd say the chances of that are high."

It was true, dwarves weren't very picky when it came to sexual partners, it wasn't unheard of for males to sleep with males, out of curiosity or just for release. However, Thorin felt, knew, this was different. He never had such strong desire to just _be_ with someone, _kiss_ someone, all his previous experiences were only to blow off some steam, though he has been with women mostly. That just made this even more surprising and frustrating. "I do not think that is the case here, Dwalin," he confessed, finally pulling a chair for himself.

"Shit, that bad?" Dwalin sat back in his chair, humming in though. "Alright," came out of him after a second. "I want you to think of what you feel, what made ya believe that he might be yer One. Maybe we should start from there."

His thoughts instantly wandered to the scene from tonight, the light catching on Garrett's face, the man's slightly parted lips, the unmistakable desire coiling in him and fingers twitching, barely resisting the urge to reach over. Head oddly light as he stumbled out of the room with a rushed goodbye, running, bailing, before he could do something stupid.

It didn't stay at that, though. The colour of his cheeks turned an unmistakable shade of red as more hints surfaced from within his mind. Garrett's eyes boring into his up on the tree, wild yet so soothing, its colour swirling and shifting like melted gold. Calming his anger yet strengthening his resolve, like an anchor, like a promise. Then the moment they shared up in Misty Mountains, Thorin would never think it could feel so good to simply sit and talk with someone, feeling carefree for just a moment, a peace he hasn't experienced in what felt like forever.

There were a lot more hints, small things that didn't quite stand out in the whole picture, but they were there, piling up into a big ball of proof that was slowly becoming impossible to ignore. None of that was, though, something he wanted said out loud.

"I can't." He propped his elbows on the table and hid his face behind his hands, next words coming out muffled as a result. "It is too humiliating."

A snort came out of Dwalin. "We went over this once already, remember that? Only our roles were reversed. Ya didn't laugh at me back then, why should I laugh at you now?"

"Because you are... you." He retorted wryly, succeeding in making Dwalin laugh.

"Good point, I'll give ya that one. But trust me, I am taking this seriously. You know how humiliating I thought it would be fer me to say all that crap out loud in front of you, but instead, going over it with ya just made me put that mess together. It helped me, Thorin, and I have no doubt it can help ya as well." When Thorin just continued to stare a hole into the table, Dwalin tried a different approach. "Look, I understand what you're feelin'. You're lost, confused, maybe even scared. I was there, too. But-"

"-All right," Thorin interrupted the other dwarf on a sigh. "You've convinced me." He interlinked both hands in front of his mouth, staring somewhere behind Dwalin in though. Once he decided his thoughts were sorted out enough to at least have a rough idea where to start, the hands were instead dropped onto the table, and he began to talk before he could back out. It was slow at first, but soon, words were flying out of him without a pause, as he tried to explain everything in as much detail as possible - if he didn't deem it too embarrassing, that is. Dwalin didn't interrupt much, only nodding along and, from time to time, confirming when he has experienced similar things and feelings too. Thorin wasn't sure why that assured him.

He lost the track of time, blank stare focused on his linked hands and mind whirring. He didn't even realize he has stopped talking, until Dwalin's whistle pulled him back into reality. "It truly seems like yer in deep, Thorin."

Contrary to what effect Thorin thought receiving a confirmation from someone else would have on his mood, he found the anxiety in him still present, if not even bigger than before. A tired sigh was all he could muster up, shoulders sagging under the weight of everything. "What should I do now?" He asked, running a hand over his face. The sleepiness slowly seeping into his bones was starting to take its toll on his ability to think, as if the night wasn't enough of a fiasco already.

"Well, on normal occasion, I would probably suggest t' just go for the straight-on approach, but I honestly can't imagine ya do that."

"What is that supposed to mean?" A frown wormed its way onto his face, deepening when Dwalin smirked.

"Oh, you know exactly what I mean."

"Are you implying I'm too much of a coward to do such a thing?"

"No, quite the opposite actually. You're terrible with expressin' yer emotions and would most likely screw up big time. Sure, in battle, ya're an unstoppable force, an excellent leader, but when it comes to talkin' and negotiations, or worse, feelings?" Wincing mockingly, Dwalin sat further back in his chair. "Mahal preserve us."

"I'm not that bad," Thorin tried defending himself, but it didn't come out very confidently, as even he had to admit that there was truth to Dwalin's words. It simply wasn't his strong suit.

"Oh, believe me, ya are. Most of yer negotiations, that I had the chance to see with my own eyes, ended up with you threatenin' the other party or somethin'. And don't forget how all human kids in Ered Luin always avoided ya cuz of bein' scared of you, said you looked like a statue. Ha! Very accurate, I'll give 'em that. Do I even need to remind you of all the glarin' before Rivendell-"

"Enough about this, Dwalin. You've made your point." Thorin sighed in resignation. A single brow was raised by the other dwarf, something Thorin didn't notice as his eyes found a specific scratch on the table very interesting. "That doesn't, however, answer my question. What am I supposed to do?"

The sound of Dwalin's chair scraping against the floor made him look up again in a silent question, one which Dwalin already predicted and answered right away. "I'm tired, so I'll be headin' to bed. As fer your lil' dilemma, just leave it be for now, I'm sure things will figure themselves out on their own. If not, ya can always give 'em a lil' kick later, I can help too." Thorin stared at him for a moment, unsure whether to agree or not, but ultimately nodded, and brought his gaze back to studying the table. "I'm goin' to the stables. That's where most of us are sleepin' cuz the giant never counted on this many visitors. Can't blame him, really. Don't know where you're supposed ta lay, but at this late hour, ya can as well just sleep with the rest of us." He turned to walk away, looking over his shoulder when Thorin didn't even make to stand up. "You comin'?"

A shake of Thorin's head was the response he got. "Not yet." No further clarification was provided, the dwarf seeming deep in his thoughts. Dwalin knew better than to press. As he started towards the exit, though, he was stopped by Thorin again. "Oh, and one more thing." Their eyes met as Thorin continued. "You say a word about this to anyone, and I'll skin you alive."

It was said with such a firm expression, it drew yet another laugh from Dwalin. "Oh, do not worry, Thorin," he nearly purred. "I have a feeling I won't have to."

Thorin chose not to reply, breaking the eye contact again. He only heard his friend wish him a good night, then the clop of Dwalin's boots slowly disappeared into distance, until the room fell completely silent. His gaze watched the flicker of the candle standing in front of him, mind still a disarray of thoughts. The answers that were provided only served to sprout more questions, which now swam inside his head, nibbing and tugging, giving him no rest. It seemed like hours before the still figure sitting by the table finally stood up, blowing out the candle, letting darkness fill the room again.

 

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_...Tap, tap..._

_...He felt like he had been here before. Although, that was hard to tell. Why was he on his knees? The ground he saw didn't look that familiar, and- what was that? He raised a hand up - it looked so small._

_Tap, tap._

_He was forced to blink, to chase away the tears gathering in the corners of his vision. Red liquid landed on top of the little palm. Strange, how much of it actually covered the hand now. Where was all of it coming from? He turned the hand, letting it all drop to the ground, when more red caught his eyes. Oh, there seemed to be a splash down there as well, interesting._

_Someone screamed. A high-pitched scream. Woman's? Yes, surely a woman's scream. Why did she do so, though? Was she in a need for help? It was then that he noticed something sticking out of his belly. He narrowed his eyes to focus more on the object. It was... something slim, with a pointy end, and..._

_... and it hurt like hell._

_Was that the reason for the woman to scream out, thought? As far as he was aware, it should've only brought pain to him, not anyone else, this thing in his belly. In any case, he looked around for her - maybe there was something else that could've been troubling her, maybe he could help? But, there was noone; just smoke and embers. And fire._

_It was everywhere. Everything was set ablaze, stinging his eyes. He had to squint to be able to look at it, to see through the bright red that everything around was suddenly painted in. A creak sounded from behind him. He slowly turned to look there, only to see-_

_His eyes grew twice in size as the realization dawned on him, freezing him to his very core. There it was, his childhood home; well, what remained of it. Engulfed in flames._

_The wooden roof released an agonized creak as it came crashing down, unable to take the assault of fire any longer. A cloud of dust and ash lifted up, only adding to what smoke was already in the air, making it hard to breathe._

_A scream of his own threatened to tear out of his throat - but it died down as soon as he opened his mouth, lost in a coughing fit that nearly choked him as the smoke particles flying around seized the opportunity, entering his throat and lungs. His eyes stinged from unshed tears ready to spill out. His hand shot to the arrow - yes, he now remembered, it was an arrow, that thing that was sticking out of him. The pain was getting nearly unbearable. Blood bubbled in his throat, the taste of it mixing with the smoke into one terrifying taste. His head swam, light from the loss of blood yet still so painfully aware of the situation, and he felt like throwing up, as if-_

_In the blink of an eye, the nightmare shifted._

_As soon as the world around him settled again, Daenar tried to gather what happened, where the dream took him. He was still in a kneeling position, but the blood was gone, same as the arrow and with it, the pain. What was under him wasn't dirt and grass, though, not anymore. Surprisingly, he realized he found himself on a tree trunk; and below it - nothing but void._

_The soaring heat ahead was, however, still present. He forced himself to look that way again, only to suddenly tense up, as his eyes met with ones normally blue like azure pools - now painted red as the flickering fire around reflected in them. Thorin bore his gaze into him, unmoving, sword in hand and inky hair billowing in the air. The dwarf made no sign of moving, even as the fire roared in his back, slowly closing in on the both of them._

_"Thorin?"_

_Was it him who spoke? The name echoed into the distance, until there was nothing more again, only the sound of fire, and smell of smoke and death. It vibrated in his mind, like an itch that couldn't be scratched away, and suddenly, Thorin's hard gaze became so prominent he couldn't turn away, the eyes, they bore into him, searching, prodding, accusing - he hated them, hated the way they gazed into his soul, hated the man who they belonged to!-_

_Wait, did he?_

_"Thorin!"_

_This time, he was sure. That was his voice - and yet, it didn't sound like him at all. It had the same tone, the same unmistakeable depth. But it seemed like the person using it was someone completely different. He didn't remember ever pouring so much hatred into the word, he didn't recall ever sounding so murderous, so bloodthirsty._

_In his peripheral, he saw the fire spread onto the tree, leaves catching and branches cracking. Shadows danced at the brink of his vision, figures bearing human-like shapes, but he couldn't be sure who they belonged to, neither did he care enough to turn and inspect them further. No, his whole attention was on the dwarf standing in front of him, caught in the spell of his stare, and when did he get so close?_

_Daenar realized he was now standing, in front of Thorin, close enough to touch if he reached out, close enough to feel the burning air that enveloped the dwarf's body. But he feared to do so, an ungodly, gripping fear he couldn't shake away no matter how hard he tried. It wasn't a fear of getting burned, no -  a different kind, that his hands would come around the dwarf's neck, that they would tighten the hold enough to choke. Fear that Thorin would let him, wouldn't fight back even as the life agonizingly slowly left his body. He clenched his fists by his sides, shaking from the effort of holding himself back, alone._

_"~Daenar." Sung a different but familiar voice. It sounded smug, and Daenar suddenly couldn't bring himself to breathe as his brain caught up, realizing who the voice belonged to._

_Horror gripped him as he watched blood start to fill Thorin's mouth and dripple from the corners. Thorin's eyes widened, and the dwarf coughed out some of the liquid, but he didn't move otherwise. Daenar noticed a sword's blade shoved through the dwarf's chest, right where the heart was, but, like Thorin, he was rooted to the spot._

_A man limped from behind the dwarf, looking down at the sword. His blond hair sticked to his face, or what remained of it as half of it was melted away, and one green eye flickered over his work admiringly. The man huffed to himself in satisfaction, poking into the blade while everything inside Daenar shouted for him to stop. It felt like hours before the blond finally looked up, catching his gaze. "Look what you've done, Daenar." The sentence came out laced with disappointment, before the mood drastically changed as the man burst into a fit of maniacal laughter._

_"Have you already forgotten, Daenar?!" He shouted in between disgusting wheezes. "Who you really are? What you're capable of doing?!" In one long stride, the blond was directly in front of him, staring him down, face so mangled Daenar hardly could place a name to it were it not for the fact he already knew. The man pointed at his own face with a scorched finger, snarling out the next words. "Have you forgotten this, old friend?" The end was spit out like acid, sending chills down Daenar's spine._

_A chilling laugh followed while the man made his way back to Thorin. He grabbed the dwarf's face, shaking it towards Daenar. "You felt it, didn't you? The pull, the hunger!  Howling inside!" Daenar tried to deny it, but he could force no words out of himself. "Why resist? You know very well it is futile, you cannot escape yourself! It's in your blood! It's in your bones! Why keep such gift locked inside? Just think where you would be if you listened to me back then! Together, we were unstoppable, we could've conquered the world!"_

_The half of the face that still could be controlled suddenly twisted into a pained frown, head tilting to the side. "Yet you betrayed me..." The voice that came out of those dry lips was weak, the opposite to how angry and loud it was before. It didn't last for long, though. "Why?..." As fast as the man calmed down, his temper rose again. "Why, why, why, why?!" Daenar was being shoved at, backed towards the gaping darkness that awaited after the cliff's edge. "I was the only one who understood you, I set you free!"_

_His feet were barely on the very edge now. A sudden flare of fire over the blond's shoulder caught his attention. He immediately turned his eyes that way, regretting it the instant he saw Thorin, engulfed in flames, melting down like a candle. The horrors inducing sight was enough to nearly send him into madness, for a second forgetting everything else. Then another pillar flared up to his right, then his left, and despite his mind screaming against, his gaze almost involuntarily travelled there. The shadowy figures he glimpsed but ignored before were now molded into proper shapes, enough for him to recognize the people they were supposed to represent. The entire Company was one by one being lit, along with a few more people he knew but chose to forget long ago, people he thought long pushed out of his memory. The effigies moaned and whined as fire slowly ate away at them, then, as if it wasn't enough, a chant of his name began._

_He struggled against the invisible binds that prevented him from moving, trashing in panic, trying to force the images out of his mind and run away from it all, and the blond man who he knew was still there, watching on, reveling in the sight of him slowly slipping into madness. But then the walking corpse of a man was in his face, breath so disgusting it made Daenar's stomach turn._

_"You should've burned with me!"_

_It was the last thing he registered before his feet weren't on solid ground anymore as he was tipped over the edge, falling down into the gaping void, a strange comforting feeling gripping his heart; that he has escaped the nightmare, the horrors left behind. His heart found solace in the knowledge that he was falling to his own demise..._

His return to the living world was followed by a gasp. He immediately shot up to a sitting position, breathing in the stale air of his room. The pitch black darkness around was squeezing him uncomfortably, lungs unable to take in a full breath. He scrambled around for something, anything, hands only finding fluffy sheets that did nothing to calm him down, the nightmare still vivid inside his mind. Why was his room so dark, has he not woken up yet? Was this yet another cruel trick played on him?

Somewhere inside, what felt like buried so deep it was a wonder such a thought has managed to surface, he recalled there was a window to his left. Blindly, he clawed that way with his left hand, slowly slipping to panic as the only thing he came in contact with was empty air. It was like a miracle when he suddenly brushed a soft fabric with the tip of his fingers, and he almost jumped for it with how eager he was to move it out of the way. Luckily, the curtain didn't rip out of the little holders with which it was secured as Daenar managed to push it away and behind the hook that served to keep it in place, and once the moonlight filtered in through the window, it felt like he could finally breathe again.

He took a moment to gather himself as he stared out the window, moving a stray sweat-damped string of hair out of his face and wiping away the sweat on his forehead, his breathing having yet to calm down. A few minutes passed before he deemed just the window not enough. He stumbled out of the room after quickly stuffing himself in his boots and some new clothes he found in the armoire, not caring what it was as long as he could get out of what he had on at the moment, which was drenched in sweat.

The house felt alien as he trudged through dark corridors, head pulsing from an oncoming headache. As expected and welcomed, nobody was awake anymore, unable to see him in such ruffled and shaken state. Although, the eery quiet was almost enough for Daenar to consider that running into someone would be better. Almost.

However, no such thing happened in the end. The instant he got outside from the back door, running out onto the porch, he took in a lungful of the fresh night air and bent forward, holding himself up with hands on his knees. Only then did he notice that his body, in fact, shook, though when that started he had no idea. Exhaustion ultimately made him sit down and lean back on his hands, first closing his eyes but since that brought the nightmare back, he opted to just stare up to the sky.

His soul almost left his body when a deep voice cut through the night; calmly, but it spooked him nevertheless.

"Bad dream?"

He bolted upright so fast his head spun for a moment, whipping his head towards the voice. Thorin sat by the wall, in a rocking chair too big for him, so much so that his feet hovered a bit above the ground. Daenar would probably, under any other circumstance, deem it a pretty comical sight, but now, he was too startled to even consider such thought. It had to show on his face, because the dwarf quickly followed his question with an apology.

"I'm sorry if I startled you."

Daenar ran a hand over his face, finally having a grip on himself again, at least enough to respond. "Damn, Thorin, don't scare me like that."

The dwarf stood up from the rocking chair, it releasing a quiet creak as he did so. "I spoke up first when you stumbled out here, but it was apparent you weren't in a state to hear, so I waited until you calmed down." He walked over to where Daenar still sat on the ground and offered a hand to pull him up, which Daenar waved away, saying he still needed some time, adding a quip about how he quite liked it down there, anyway. The offered hand was reluctantly pulled away, then the dwarf surprised him when he sat down next to him on the wooden floor. He chose not to comment on why Thorin did so, instead asking after a moment what the dwarf was still doing awake this late.

A shrug was the initial response. "Had a lot to think about." Well, that was vague, and entirely unsatisfying. Though, he was in no position to prod further as his own reluctance to answer Thorin's very first question was quite apparent, even though he knew the dwarf would get around to it eventually. "I reckon I don't really need to ask why _you're_ awake."

It was a subtly formed sentence, a question if the receiving party was willing to answer, or a statement should it be otherwise. Daenar was grateful for being offered a choice, as he was in no mood or state of mind to go back there and try decipher what all parts of the nightmare meant, that is, if they had any meaning at all. Right now, though, he needed to not think back on the experience, and all the memories it brought back, those he thought long stomped so far down they would never haunt him again.

Especially those of the man he once called his best friend, brother, _lover_. He shivered involuntarily as he recalled the crazy expression on the blond's face, the haunting laugh of a madman, the things that were said, each word gnawing deeper and deeper-

Daenar realized he still hasn't answered, and hoped a simple hum was enough for Thorin to understand.

Nothing was said for the next couple of minutes, both of them content on letting the silence take over. Daenar's gaze wandered over the land he could see from his spot, and though the night was dark, the moonlight outlined most of the bushes and trees, which generously stretched as far as he could see. The sight drew a smile on his face. Beorn's garden - the skinchanger's personal treasure, seemed to have been expanded a bit again since his last visit. Though he could only see the outlines, the place was familiar enough to him to picture every nook of it so vividly, as if walking through it, holding Beorn's hand while the giant described each plant and, with tenderness that nobody would ever say the man was capable of, tended to each individual living thing, flowers, trees, animals that resided inside. It was like taking a walk through paradise, where Daenar found the connection with nature he thought he left in his childhood village back then.

The radiant smile he now sported was hard to not notice, drawing a question out of the other one present. "What is in the ample area stretching over the entire back of this place? It is huge, and seems to have no borders or anything to separate it from everything else."

He couldn't help but chuckle softly. "Impressive, right? That is Beorn's garden."

"I thought as much."

Thorin sounded unimpressed, which made Daenar's eyebrows rise. "I can sense the disapproval, Thorin. What is it?"

The dwarf swept a hand over the garden. "It just... doesn't seem to have any semblance of order."

Ah. He understood where Thorin was coming from. "You're right, but at the same time, you're not. Beorn has a very special personal style, but he is an amazing gardener." One of his hands came up to rub at the back of his neck as he thought over what words to choose to describe the style, ultimately realizing that the only way he came up with was 'chaotically beautiful'. He imagined that wasn't the best thing to say. "It is a little harder to explain, a better way would be to just show you." His gaze turned to Thorin, finding the dwarf already watching him, staring. He paid it no mind. "Yes, I should definitely give you a tour. I swear, it is the loveliest place in all Middle Earth, at least that I've seen."

However, when Thorin didn't answer, just continued to look at him as if his mind wasn't on their conversation at all, a quiver of worry replaced his smile. He said the dwarf's name in order to try and bring him back from whatever trance he was in, which had the desired effect, judging so when Thorin blinked and his blank gaze seemed to refocus. "Pardon?"

"I, uh, said that I could give you a tour tomorrow," Daenar repeated slowly, thoughts not entirely on that topic anymore. "Are you all right, Thorin? You seemed to have spaced out just now."

"Ah, make nothing of it. I simply... remembered a thing I forgot to, em, discuss with Balin," the dwarf tried, not fooling Daenar in the least. "Do not worry, it is nothing that important, only-"

"-That just sounds like an excuse, if I'm to be completely honest." Thorin's expression betrayed nothing as the dwarf stared out into the night again, which only proved that Daenar was right. "I think the exhaustion is finally catching up to you, you should go catch some shuteye."

"... I don't think it would bear any fruit," came the reply, no longer trying to deny.

"How is that so?"

At that, the dwarf turned to look back at him, meeting his eyes again. Daenar held the gaze, a little confused when Thorin didn't answer for a longer time than what was normal, but as he was opening his mouth to ask, Thorin broke the gaze while speaking. "There's still too much on my mind."

Apparently. Though, Daenar was sure that what plagued the other's thoughts wasn't something as simple as Thorin tried to make him believe. However, he was too tired himself to have that game of carefully dissecting Thorin's mind for answers the dwarf wasn't willing to give, too stubborn to admit he needed help. "... Well, for the record, I don't think I would be able to fall asleep right now as well, anyway."

After that was said, the two of them lapsed into silence, no words exchanged, just the sounds of the night disturbing it. The atmosphere was so calming that he actually started yawning, the action so infectious even Thorin wasn't wholly resistant to its spell. Daenar had to stifle a laughter the first few times he made the dwarf yawn as well, but couldn't hold it in anymore after that, a huff of it soon followed by a chuckle.

"Is something funny?"

"Oh, come on." He looked sideways at Thorin, not bothering to wipe the smile off his face. "You have to admit, that was top notch entertainment."

It took a second for Thorin to say something, his reply sending him to a full on laughter now. "How childish."

"Perhaps," he managed to get out between gulps of breath. Thorin's own smile didn't slip his attention, though. "But it cheered you up as well, has it not?" He liked the rare occurrences when a smile appeared on the dwarf's face, maybe it was simply because they were that, rare. Or it was the knowledge that he was the reason behind them, or that they showed a part of the dwarf that was normally carefully concealed; but, mainly, and Daenar would never admit this out loud - Thorin's already handsome face became so much more handsome, as if that was even possible. Small wrinkles appeared, a spark in those blue eyes, nose scrunching up ever so slightly...

His thoughts were interrupted when he noticed Thorin standing up, puzzlement quite clear in his expression. "I'm glad to see your mood has elevated," the dwarf said as he stretched to loosen up the tense knots in his shoulders and back. "But we should both be going to bed."  
  
Despite trying his very best to avoid it, Daenar's mind went briefly to the nightmare. The shiver that ran through him was enough to tell that the horror was still not entirely gone, just pushed back thanks to Thorin's presence. However, at the same time, he knew the dwarf needed the rest, and even though the selfish part of him wanted him to stay, his more reasonable side knew better than to force Thorin into skipping on his rest just because of him. "I don't think I can, yet. You go, though, you need the rest."

"Perhaps you haven't heard me clearly, Garrett. The word 'both' wasn't used purposelessly."

He couldn't help but look up at the dwarf through narrowed eyes. "My hearing is still fine, thank you very much. I know what you said, but I don't think I can return to the lonely confines of my room just yet."

"Which is why you won't be sleeping alone."

To that, the expression on his face transformed into that of shock, unable to fully comprehend what the other's words meant. "What?" He asked, fully aware of how dumb he sounded.

Thorin offered his hand again, the same way as before. "I'm sure there is plenty of room in the stables. That is, if you don't mind the snoring and stench of animals, and I know for a fact that you should be used to both."

Ah, so that was what he meant. His face relaxed back into a light smile as he let Thorin pull him up. One thing occurred to him as he was dusting himself off, and he feigned offence with his next words. "What was that animal part? Did you mean anything in particular by that remark?" Thorin's huff only confirmed his suspicions, a real offence building up now. "Are you saying I stink when in wolf form?!"

"Maybe," said Thorin, then turned and started towards the house's entrance without any added elaboration. He actually sounded _amused_.

"What the hell?" Sputtered out Daenar, before catching up to the dwarf. "I don't stink, mind you!" Then, weakly, muttering for himself as if unsure. "Do I?"

It was Thorin's turn to laugh, after which Daenar couldn't really be mad anymore, because the sound of Thorin's laughter was like music to his ears.


	10. To Drive a Man Mad

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**Chapter 10**  
**To Drive a Man Mad**

╰╼|══════════|╾╯

 

 

Daenar slept in late, and he would still be asleep were it not for something nipping his cheeks, startling him awake. A flash of colourful wings was the first thing he saw as he quickly sat up, feeling for where his cheek still stung. A glance to the side revealed the offender to be a curious rooster, who apparently found his face very interesting. It surprised him the animal has even managed to get inside his room, as he always made sure the door was closed over the night for this very reason, but a glance around the room answered any questions he might've had. The door was slightly ajar, and the fur blankets he borrowed Thorin last night to sleep on were already neatly stacked on the table, the dwarf himself gone. Thorin probably forgot to fully close the door, or simply didn't wish to make too much noise so as to not wake him.

He scared the rooster away with a wave of his hand, watching as it scurried out of the room in a flail of wings. The hand on his cheek abandoned its position in favour of coming up to rub the sleepiness out of his eyes, a yawn escaping him as well. His gaze set on the stack of blankets again and stayed there.

The previous night flashed through his mind, from waking up from the nightmare, over meeting Thorin out on the porch, to how they ended up here. It wasn't intentional, they initially wanted to lie in the stables, but when they got there, they found it full nearly to bursting, animals and dwarves alike occupying every free spot fit for sleeping save for a small pile of hay in one corner of the building. It truly wasn't built to accommodate so many people.

Thorin, ever the gentleman, immediately offered he would sleep on the dirty, hard ground, and let Daenar take the pile of hay, but that was very quickly and sternly refused. Like hell Daenar was going to let him do that. They argued over it for a while in hushed tones, before Daenar couldn't take it anymore and said he would go back to his room, despite fearing the idea of being alone again. However, it was as if Thorin read his thoughts, worryingly dismissing the idea. Just as Daenar was going to retort something, the dwarf asked if he would mind sharing his room for the night, and it was a wonder Daenar's jaw didn't dislocate as it hung open, its owner rendered speechless.

Of course. That was the most logical option. How did he not think of it sooner? Actually, he did, but didn't say anything as he was almost certain the offer would be immediately shut down, anyway. Apparently, though, he was wrong, because there they were, in his room in the middle of the night. He didn't manage to convince Thorin to take the bed for his troubles, but at least made the dwarf take all the blankets he could find to soften his lying on the floor. Even when they slept a good distance apart, with their backs to eachother, Daenar could still recall how high-strung he was at sleeping alone in a room with the dwarf, which quite likely was why he couldn't fall asleep so fast.

Glancing out the window, the sun's position told him it was nearly noon, but that knowledge still did nothing to chase away his reluctance to get out of the bed, simply because he didn't know what he would do. So he just let himself fall down again with closed eyes, a hand lazily placed on his chest, its fingers drumming to no particular rhythm as he mulled over reasons to leave the soft sheets. It took a while before he reached the conclusion that the best course of action would be to go take a bath, then find something to eat because he was starving. Past that, he didn't know, relying on that he'll probably figure it out later.

With a goal set in mind, he set his plan to action. The water in Beorn's hot spring pool, which was in one of the buildings next to the house, was amazing as always, almost too pleasant to leave. Despite the enticing lukewarm water, however, Daenar forced himself to only take a quick bath, as his stomach started to grumble out a symphony before he even got there, protesting against the lack of received nutrients as he didn't eat much since yesterday's breakfast, only a few grapes. So it didn't take long before he found himself walking the hallways of the house, making his way to the dining room. And bumping into a certain curious dwarf, who was much too cheeky and barefaced for the fact that he was a prince. "So, how was he?"

Daenar whipped his head around, startled by both the question and Kíli's appearance. He couldn't even muster up a greeting, fully occupied by figuring out what and who the young dwarf meant by the question. "What?..."

The prince stopped next to him, sporting a smug grin. "Was uncle good?"

"What are you-" The exact second the lights turned on inside his brain could be pinpointed as shocked eyes found Kíli's, mouth falling agape and staying that way for several seconds. Meanwhile, Kíli's grin only widened, the dwarf clasping his hands behind his back, as if trying to bring at least a bit of authority to his presence, even over the fact that he was asking such a lewd question. He seemed too pleased with himself. Though, before he could add anything, Daenar found his voice again. "E-excuse me?" he breathed out, hoping the dwarf would take the hint and cease to ask similar nonsense.

The opposite was the truth. "Come on, everyone noticed you two were missing, yesterday. So?" His face was too close, excited, forcing Daenar to back off. "Did you do the nasty?"

"Kíli, what the hell!" Daenar warned, nonplussed. "That's- that's not- of course we didn't, how- how did that even-" How did that even cross his mind? "The stables were full, so I've offered he can crash in my room, nothing more. What makes you suggest such nonsense?" Was the response he settled on, irritation boiling inside. He imagined his previous tripping over his tongue did nothing to dispel Kíli's assumption.

Kíli straightened again, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Is that so?" Going by the tone of his voice, it was quite clear the prince didn't believe a word he said. "Did he at least smooch you, then?"

"What- no." He had to stop this before his temper couldn't be contained any longer. "That's enough, Kíli, we've talked about this ad nauseam. Nothing happened, just drop it."

Kíli's head actually tilted to the side. He would normally think the gesture to be quite adorable, not at that moment though. "Ad nauseam? What does that mean, is that some special expression of your race?"

At least the interrogation was over, he thought. Though, he knew that that wasn't going to last for long. Glad the subject was dropped for now, he started towards the dining room again, Kíli close behind. "It means that I'm going to punch you if you so much as mention something similar again."

His walk came to an abrupt halt as Kíli jumped in front of him, all smiles despite the scowl directed back at him. "Don't worry, I'm cheering for you two!" He gave him a thumbs up as Daenar couldn't hold himself back any longer, then, with a giggle, evaded the hand that grabbed for him, before sprinting towards the door on the other side of the hallway, giving Daenar a last short wave. "See you at lunch!"

"I told you- Come back you obtuse clod!" Daenar called after him, but the dwarf quickly disappeared behind the door, a sound of several voices filtering out for a second before the door shut behind the prince again. He could only rub at his face in frustration, contemplating skipping lunch if it meant having to bear through curious, prodding eyes or, worse, another salve of questions. Because he knew, oh, he was certain that the others had to have been dragged into this too, quite possibly by the very dwarf he just ran into.

After a few seconds of thinking, he let a growl loose and leaned on the wall, the window next to him casting a long shadow of his over the floor. He hid his face in his hands, a frustrated scream threatening to come out, face on fire all the way to the tip of his ears. Because now, he couldn't get the picture of Thorin kissing him out of his mind, which just made everything oh so much worse. It was easy to miss the clop of boots over the rushing of blood in his ears, and when he caught a voice calling out his name, it took everything for him not to howl with frustration. He chose to just stand there and not answer, but then he felt hands on his, removing them from his face. At the very least, he averted his eyes, unable to look into the ones of the newcomer.

Not after the conversation he just had, and the images his mind produced afterwards.

"Garrett, what is going on? Are you in pain? Perhaps a headache-"

He stopped Thorin's rambling before the situation could get worse. "I'm okay, everything's fine."

Thorin didn't budge, worry etched in his voice. Why was the dwarf so concerned over him? "Your face is all red, and you're refusing to look at me."

With a sigh, he looked up, but as soon as he caught the other's eyes, he quickly focused on something else. His hair, skilfully braided, looking so soft... nope, something else, the beads - _that's too close to the hair dumbass!_ Nose, beard, _mouth_ \- how the hell did he think that was a good idea. He finally had to settle on the floor again, even redder than before, which only served to make Thorin confused. And himself angry, for some reason. He worked his jaw, hoping Thorin would take the hint and cease to prod any further.

"All right," sighed out the dwarf after a few heartbeats. "Keep your problems to yourself, then. But if it later turns out you were, in fact, ill, I swear…"

"You think I'm lying to you?" He clicked his mouth shut as he noticed how angry his voice sounded, berating himself for letting the situation get the better of him. Thorin seemed surprised by the tone of his voice; unsurprising, really, Daenar imagined he would be too. He muttered an apology, but knew he simply needed to get out of here before he could take out all his frustration on the one person that deserved it the least.

"It does not seem like nothing to me," said Thorin as Daenar slipped his hands from his hold and turned to leave - in the direction he came from. He managed to take a few steps before hearing his name being called again. "The dining room is this way," called the dwarf to his retreating back, but didn't chase after him. The only answer Daenar offered was a declaration over his shoulder that he was no longer hungry, before disappearing behind a corner.

He knew he just acted like a total brat, to someone who didn't deserve such treatment as well. Sighing, he picked up his pace, making a mental note to explain everything and apologize properly later. Right now, though, his room was the only thing he could think of. Once there, he fell back onto his bed with a heavy sigh, just lying there for a moment, before deciding he needed a distraction from his thoughts. Then a great idea hit him, and he immediately grabbed his bag and rummaged through it, finding the book Bilbo lent him back in Rivendell inside. Knowing what to do now, he got back up, deciding to read in the garden. After all, Beorn's garden was a sight to behold, and he didn't get a chance to go there yesterday. With an objective found, he left his room again, and made for the back entrance.

The sun was already burning when he stepped out, compared to when he left the house earlier for the bath. The garden spread directly from behind the house, without any certain shape as Beorn kept on adding to it however he felt like. The unkempt bed of grass was only gotten rid of weeds, but left to grow otherwise. It never grew very high, though, leaving itself look like a fluffy blanket.

A lone, tall tree stood in the notional middle on a small hill, its branches full of nests, some abandoned, others very much alive. Beorn told him it was that tree which he started to create the garden around - and it was no wonder. The tree, an oak, has stood there for several decades, its bark and branches rising like a pinnacle of the garden, casting shadow over the grassy hill. Several other trees were strewn around the place, though none as magnificent as the oak.

A path of stepping stones curved around each bend in the garden, leading around neatly trimmed shrubs and flower bushes, which were rich in species. The flowers and plants were well looked after, but still allowed plenty of space to grow. They were a delight for butterflies and the bees Beorn was keeping in the big, bell-shaped beehives not too far from the garden.

The plants, grass, and roots eagerly crept and crawled their way beyond their allocated garden spots, each eager to take just a little bit more land for themselves. Although Beorn still kept them from spreading too much, he mostly left them to their own, making them mix together in some places to form wonderful variations of colours.

It was unlike any other garden, completely different from elven style. This garden was wild, breathing, untamed. It was just what he needed at the moment.

He walked under the flowery archway serving as the entrance, although the garden was open from most sides. The path of stones lead directly towards the oak in the middle, which was where he was headed, too. A tall figure with its back to Daenar stood by the tree, making him smile and speed up into a jog, all his troubles slipping away from his mind. By the time he made it to the tree, he was left breathless. "Uncle Beorn!"

The big man turned around, smiling broadly. "Daenar! What brings you here so soon?" He was holding a nest in his palm, and a worried blue bird was perched on his shoulder. "I was just trying to help this little fella out. His nest fell down. Luckily, the eggs are okay, but..." He looked up, frowning. "I don't know how to get the nest back up."

A smirk appeared on Daenar's lips. "I do. Give it to me." He was good at climbing trees, doing it very often when he was younger - after all, he used it in the fight a few days back, although the leg injury didn't help things much. But the wound was already mostly healed up, even during his bath earlier it only stung a little. His wounds always healed fast. Beorn knew about his hobby, but didn't approve, thinking it to be too unsafe.

Even now, it was apparent he disliked the idea. "No, I know what your plan is. It is too dangerous." He tried to look serious, but the bird cavorting on his shoulder blew that picture away. Before the man could react, Daenar grabbed the nest, and sprang up the tree, finding himself in his element. He already climbed the oak many times before, and although it was a bit harder with just one hand, he managed to get up into the crown without any problem at all, safely depositing the nest to a safe spot in a crook between two branches. The bird flew up, chirped at him in thanks, then got to inspecting its eggs. "Great!" came a nervous shout from below. "Now, climb back down, please."

The smirk returned to his face. He had a different idea. "Are you ready to catch me, uncle?"

Beorn's eyes widened, muttering pleas. "Just climb down, like a normal-"

"Three..."

"You could seriously-"

"Two..."

"-Hurt yourself, what if I-"

"One!"

Beorn yelped as Daenar jumped, managing to catch him in his arms, all the while Daenar was laughing out loud, Beorn still in a state of shock. "D-don't ever do that again."

"You should've seen your face, it was golden!" Taking pity on the other man, he hugged him around the neck, apologizing for the stunt.

"Yeah, yeah," said the man, smiling now. "You were always rampant. Your stunts will be the death of me one day." Straightening, he glanced back up at the now happily chirping bird, before stretching his arms. "As much as I'd like to chat, though, I still have some work to do."

"We can talk during the work," offered Daenar. "I need to somehow repay you for helping us. And take my mind off some things. Besides, we haven't yet had the chance to catch up on what happened in the time we haven't seen each other. As you might already guess, I have a lot to tell."

That earned him a nod from the big man. Grabbing the book, Daenar caught up to him, then followed Beorn's lead. "I though you've already read all the books this world has to offer," said the big man after a while.

They continued making their way through the garden, Beorn leading him more towards the western side, probably because he wanted to check on something in there. "Oh. No, this one is new. I borrowed it from Bilbo, back in Rivendell, and read quite a bit of it already, but I still have yet to finish the book. I think he'd like it back soon, even though he hasn't said anything yet, so I thought I could finish it now."

Beorn abruptly stopped, kneeling next to one patch of flowers with a frown. As Daenar was already used to the other man coming to a stop randomly while walking through the garden, he was ready not to bump into him. "Bilbo is the halfling, yes?" asked Beorn, with obviously only half of his mind's focus on their conversation.

A hum was all that came out of Daenar in confirmation, as he craned his neck over Beorn's wide frame, immediately recognizing what caught the other's attention. "Looks like they didn't get enough water, probably because the lissuins next to them took all of it?" Lissuins were originally from Tol Eressëa, a large island off the coast of Valinor. They had a characteristic, incredibly sweet smell, alluring Beorn's bees. Daenar always thought that they were the reason Beorn's honey tasted so good. Although, how the man obtained the flower was a mystery to him still, as whenever he asked, Beorn would only shrug and grin, never telling him a thing. It was easy to see it was his favourite flower, every corner of the garden a home for at least a small patch of them.

"Yes, I'll have to move them somewhere, where they will get properly hydrated. Also, these in particular need a lot of sun, it might be a good idea to not put them anywhere where there are a lot of tall shrubs, casting shadow. I don't know what I was thinking putting them here in the first place."

It took a lot of will for Daenar not to roll his eyes. There were only few shrubs around the spot, which weren't even that tall. Beorn would always find an excuse not to have to get rid of even a single lissuin. However, he kept his thoughts to himself, and they were on their way again before he could say anything, anyway. Beorn stopped to inspect something two more times, but it never was anything important enough to stop for more than a few seconds.

As soon as they left the garden, Beorn turned to walk in a straight line towards the stables. There, they got to cleaning the stalls, the skinchanger wanting to make the space cleaner for the dwarves and hobbit to sleep in as he didn't have much time or will to do so yesterday, while Daenar started about their adventure, telling Beorn what happened during his time with the Company. Before he finished, they managed to clean the whole building, change water for all animals, and even milk the cows.

After that, Beorn insisted on him taking a break. Although he protested at first, the man simply said that there was no work he could give him, anyway, and that he himself wanted to go and check on those flowers they stopped at earlier. Knowing Beorn liked to work on his garden alone, Daenar had no other choice than to retreat back to his room. Well, at least it was a chance to finish the book. Lying into the soft bed, he simply left the covers only to his waist as it was hot outside, and the sun shining in through the window directly next to the bed warmed the whole room. With that, he let himself get pulled into the book, completely moving everything else to the background.

When he next came to, the sun was still shining, albeit with less intensity. Slowly blinking his eyes open, Daenar took in his surroundings, mind still hazy from sleep. The sun illuminated the room, but shadows were slowly creeping in, and the air wasn't so hot anymore. The first thing he noticed was an empty feeling in his stomach, immediately followed by a rumble. Wryly, he recalled that he skipped lunch earlier, hence why his stomach protested. Releasing a grunt, he sat up, rubbing the sleepiness from his eyes. He must've fallen asleep while reading...

Speaking of which, where was the book now? He looked around with half-lidded eyes, finding the item lying on the table - along with a plate full of food, a wooden tankard next to it, probably filled with milk going by the colour of its contents. The sight of food was enough to elicit another rumble from his stomach, though he had to wonder how it got there, or, more like, who brought it. Somebody must've taken notice of his absence at lunch, and was kind enough to bring him some food and leave it here for when he wakes up. It could've been anyone, but one name in particular rose in his head.

His stomach released a protest at his pausing, too empty to care about anything other than devouring the food. Putting his thoughts aside for now, he shuffled to the edge of the bed, reaching for the plate, and sooner than ever, the whole plate was in him, along with the milk. Finding his stomach satisfied for the time being, he continued to lay in the bed for a moment longer, before his thoughts wandered back to where they were stopped before.   
  
He had to go find Thorin.   
  
Without any idea as to where the dwarf was at the moment, he first headed to the kitchen to leave the plate and tankard there, hoping to find Thorin or anybody who could send him in the dwarf's direction. Sure enough, Dwalin was there, the usually grumpy dwarf being in one of his rare cheerful moods, filling many tankards with milk. "Mornin', lad," he teased as soon as he saw him enter.

Daenar stiffened in the doorway momentarily, but decided not to make anything of the comment as he strode to the tub that served as a sink, finding a few more dishes in the water. "It is nearly dawn, Dwalin," he grumbled, getting to washing all the dishes.

A snort came out of Dwalin, as the dwarf took another tankard to be filled, but instead paused in his work to regard Daenar with an almost disapproving look. "Means ya slept through the day." Then his tone changed a little, became more teasing, as probably did his eyes even though Daenar had no way to tell because he kept his gaze firmly on his own work, scrubbing at a plate. "I can't think of anything that could make you so tired, ya usually don't sleep much…" Was he also suggesting...?

Could everyone just drop all this? Have they all plotted against him, just to get him on edge? If so, they were slowly but surely getting there. Though, he managed to keep cool just this time, if only being a little uptight. "I was outside for quite a while, probably just happened not to run into any of you, then receded into my room to read. Why do you ask?"

What he didn't know was the dwarf was carefully inspecting every little reaction, trying to read through the expression on his face or rise or fall of his voice, the emotions that they gave out. And so far, they weren't entirely off from what his prediction was. For now, though, he would deem the information he gathered enough, and decided to stop his teasing. "It's cool to admit you were tired, no need to get defensive. The injuries ya sustained had to tire you down and still you fought orcs and guided us to this place with no complaining whatsoever, you deserve the rest."

That gave Daenar a pause, because, like, everything about what the other said was wrong. Not in the actual words, but the fact that it was Dwalin who spoke them made his hands stop in what they were doing as he brought his gaze up, just staring at the dwarf with an unreadable expression. "Where's the catch?" He finally asked before the moment stretched for too long, awkwardly so.

"What catch? Why would there be one?" Dwalin retorted with a hint of annoyance.

Daenar contemplated how to put what he thought into words without offending, though ultimately he resigned to simple honesty, turning back to what he was doing before being interrupted. "You never had a nice word to say about me," he began, pausing to put the plate away, a spoon being the last item that needed cleaning. "Not that I hold it against you, you have every right not to trust me. But that just makes this even stranger."

"Let us say I had a change of heart."

Humming in response, he scrubbed at the spoon, probably way longer than was necessarily, before finally putting it away with a sigh. The change in Dwalin's attitude was rather drastic, but he would not complain, in fact he deemed it better not to overthink it too much. Maybe the dwarf was saying the truth, or maybe he was just in a good mood, who could say. Instead, Daenar pointed towards the pile of filled tankards. "What's all that milk for? Do you need help?"

A boom of laughter came out of the dwarf, further baffling him. "I was once able t' hold thirty at once! This is nothin'. Although, ya can take some if ya want, I'm bringin' it to the others outside, we just finished fixin' the barn and some other stuff fer the giant, it had holes everywhere! Especially the roof. We thought we could repay him fer harbourin' us, y'know."

A light smile slowly spread on Daenar's face. Dwarves could be stubborn, but they had hearts of gold and held their debts in deep regard. "I'm sure Beorn will appreciate it, thank you." He took four tankards, two in each hand, then stood gaping at Dwalin as the man took the rest with practiced ease.

"Ya comin', lad?" Dwalin said as if nothing was happening, then left the room, Daenar following close behind.

Sure enough, sooner than they could come out of the house, he could hear the to him already well-known chatter, and when they turned towards the barn, the dwarves were already gathered in front of it, sitting and laughing. Upon seeing the two of them approach, they sprang to their feet, robbing them of all the tankards with cheerful thanks. Daenar was left with only one, and, looking around, found out who it belonged to rather quickly. The recipient just happened to be the person he was looking for. "Where's Thorin?"

It was Kíli who answered his question. "Oh, he's still behind the barn, fixing something. I'm sure he'd like it if you brought him a little refreshment, though," finished the prince with a purr and a wink.

He simply ignored the remark, heading to where he was told Thorin would be. Seriously, Kíli was more than two times older than him, yet still behaved like a child. Even though, recounted into human years, he was still in his mid twenties, probably around 25 years of human age. Which would make him the same age as Daenar, now that he thought about it. His behaviour made even less sense now...

Being close to his destination, Daenar called Thorin's name, and grew nervous when he heard the man shout back a 'here', as he recalled the sole purpose of why he went to search for the dwarf. He started to recite the apology inside his head, growing more nervous the closer he got. As soon as he rounded the corner, though, the sight that opened in front of him stopped him in his track, cogs coming to a screeching halt inside his head.

Thorin was standing on a ladder, banging nails into a wooden plank to fill a hole in the wall, just one or two more planks until he was done. Except, the man was _completely bare from the waist up_. The sound of hammer meeting with nails pierced the air, and Daenar couldn't bring himself to move as he watched Thorin's muscles shift with every swing of his arm, knuckles white from the grip on the hammer's handle, and the dwarf's whole body glistening in the receding sun. Thorin's concentrated expression was a sight to behold, and he almost groaned as a single, delicate bead of sweat rolled down the dwarf's cheek, which he swept away after finishing up with that plank, taking the shirt he had thrown over his shoulder and wiping his forehead clear.

Realizing he was staring, Daenar quickly clicked his mouth shut, schooling his expression just in time to avoid Thorin catching his blatant admiration, even though the colour of his face had to be enough to go by, he supposed. Thorin, however, made no sign of paying it any mind. "Ah, Garrett. Would you mind handing me the last plank?"

Daenar's daze was squashed away quickly as he took the item Thorin pointed at, then handed it to the dwarf, who, to make matters worse, shot him a warm smile in return before returning his attention back to his task, completely oblivious to Daenar's once again resumed staring. He couldn't help it, admiring the ease with which the dwarf worked, chiseled chest rising and falling with every breath, those skilled fingers wrapped around the tool so firmly, and he couldn't help but wonder what would it feel like if they were wrapped around something else...

 _What?!_ He shook his head in a desperate attempt to chase away such dirty, inappropriate thoughts, trying to focus on anything but Thorin.

When the dwarf climbed down from the ladder, or more like jumped, Daenar sheepishly offered him the tankard, which was taken from him with a grateful nod before Thorin emptied it in a few seconds. Daenar certainly _wasn't_ watching the bob of the other's adam's apple. "Thanks, that is exactly what I needed," said Thorin, looking over his work once more. "It is not a work I'm particularly proud of, but it shall do. Had I had more materials and tools to work with..."

Daenar kept staring at the dwarf for a moment longer, not realizing he was doing so, but when he did he quickly blinked the daze away, following Thorin's gaze. His eyes wandered over the patched holes on this side of the building, humming in approval. They were fixed very well. "Yeah, no, I think you did a very good job. I'm, uh, sure Beorn will be delighted to see what you all have done for him."

"It is the least we could do."

"You're being too modest. Beorn didn't ask you for anything in return, yet you still have found a way to repay him. He will certainly be pleasantly surprised."

The dwarf grunted in a way that suggested he either wasn't convinced, or didn't deem just this thing being enough. The latter was probably true if Daenar had to guess, which was proven correct with Thorin's next words. "I will repay him generously after we reclaim Erebor, this will probably have to do for now."

There was no arguing with Thorin once he got something inside his head, so Daenar chose to just let the topic be, instead saying they should join the others in front of the barn. Thorin agreed, and, to Daenar's gratefulness, put his shirt back on. Once the dwarf's chest disappeared under the fabric, Daenar visibly relaxed again, mind no longer distracted by inappropriate thoughts, and he turned back in the direction he came from. He didn't get far before Thorin's next comment made him stop in his tracks.

"Mind telling me what's going on?" Daenar sighed and twisted back, only to find Thorin close, _too close_ , and instinctively retreated a step, which only served to make the dwarf even more suspicious, folding his arms. "You were uptight this morning, which, as I see, hasn't changed yet." When no answer met his words, and he noticed Daenar's hands ball into fists, Thorin came to a conclusion. "Does it have anything to do with me?"

Again, Daenar couldn't force a response out of himself.

"If I were to guess, it looks like you're repelled by me since last night. If it was uncomfortable for you, you should've said so, I simply didn't want to leave you alone after your nightmare-"

"-No." Daenar finally spoke up; a little sterner than he thought. Even he was surprised by the tone of his voice, and willed himself to smoothen it with his next words, looking around frantically if anyone witnessed or was eavesdropping on their conversation. The air seemed to be clear. "I mean, it has something to do with you, but not in the way you might think. Can we- can we talk alone, Thorin?".

"So there is something going on." The tension in the dwarf's body visibly dissipated slightly, though his eyes were still as serious as before. "One last question, is it related to what you wanted to tell me when I found you after your talk with Gandalf?"

He stiffened as he recalled that, their inevitable conversation suddenly made even worse. "This thing isn't," he admitted through gritted teeth, eyes set on his boot scuffing on the ground. "Though, we have to get to that, too."

He was caught off guard when Thorin stepped closer suddenly, and put both hands on Daenar's shoulders. "Whatever it is, Garrett, I will help you as much as is in my power. Remember, every problem has a solution, but stress and worry won't help you solve it."

Daenar's eyes found Thorin's, which were hard as stone, impenetrable, yet assuring at the same time. "I do not worry about the problem, Thorin," he said, voice nearly a whisper. He cast his gaze back down, a sigh escaping his lips. "I worry about the solution."

Thorin stayed silent for a second, and Daenar could feel his eyes searching his face, but then the dwarf's hands tightened briefly where they were holding his shoulders, before releasing their hold. "Did you have a place in mind?"

The sun was setting, and night would fall on the land soon, but his mind still wandered to the garden, followed closely by his gaze as he twisted his upper body around to look that way. "I remember promising you a tour of Beorn's garden," he muttered. "Though it is probably too late to-" The sound of a metal squak made him turn back to find Thorin picking up a lantern from next to where he left his tools, along with what Daenar supposed was flint and steel. "Oh."

Thorin lit the lantern with ease, striking the flint and steel, which immediately created a spark. He put the small items in a pocket, holding the lantern in front of himself. "I came prepared in case my work stretched for too long. This should serve us well."

"Indeed," agreed Daenar. Strangely, he found that the tension slipped away from him slightly, even a small smile crept onto his face. Although they had a hard conversation ahead of themselves, the flutter in his stomach wasn't from fear or worry. As he looked up, meeting Thorin's gaze, and saw the dwarf conjure up a smile in return, he knew, he had nothing to worry about.

"Shall we go, then?"


	11. Mirkwood

╭╼|══════════|╾╮  
  
**Chapter 11**  
**Mirkwood**

╰╼|══════════|╾╯

 

 

To Thorin, it came as only mildly surprising when Gandalf revealed he was needed elsewhere, biting down any witty remarks of his. The Mirkwood forest was a dangerous place, fell things hiding behind every corner. Losing their wizard was quite a big blow, Thorin wished he would've known about his departure sooner. Then again, Gandalf made it almost a habit of his to disappear in the worst possible moments and miraculously reappear later just on time to save the situation. And Thorin would still have chosen to walk through Mirkwood no matter the circumstances.

His eyes instead fell on the person standing beside the old man, who appeared just as nervous about the sudden turn of events as everybody else. Garrett was clenching his teeth as he listened to what Gandalf had to say, nodding along nervously from time to time. Then Gandalf had to have said something that calmed him down, because the man suddenly released a long sigh, and the strain in his shoulders disappeared. Thorin was paying none of that any mind.

_"I have done things in my past, Thorin. Things I'm not proud of, that I regret."_

Thorin's gaze turned dreamy as he thought back on last night.

_"Leaving him in that fire is, however, not one of them."_

_The light illuminating their path danced as they walked, lantern swinging in Thorin's hand. The garden remained calm, coated in the night already, the darkness only disturbed by the two figures that walked its sometimes not-so-subtly defined paths, long shadows casted behind them as they passed beautiful sights of sleeping nature. Though, neither man paid them even a glimpse, too engrossed in their conversation, something heavy looming in the air around them._

_"So, to reiterate, this friend of yours who figured in your dream, you said you held him very dear once, that you trusted him more than you trusted even yourself. It is hard to imagine an event able to break such a bond."_

_"He... was more than a friend."_

_Thorin felt his heart quicken as the other's words echoed inside his head, a prospect sparking to life within him. The man might've meant it differently, he shouldn't jump to conclusions. Yet, it took much will to keep his voice even when he spoke next, and even then, he wasn't very successful, tone a bit off. "That just-" A quick clearing of his throat was enough to rid it of any nervosity once again. "That only makes it more baffling."_

_Luckily, it seemed Garrett was too deep in his thoughts to notice his small slip. "In order for you to fully understand, we have to start from the very beginning. As I said earlier, I was in a bad spot, and he was my way out. When he found me, we were both broken - me on the inside, while he, on the contrary…" The man patted his thigh. "One of his legs didn't work, he said it was like that since his birth. He didn't have much, but took me in even when he knew who-_ **_what_ ** _I really was. Don't ask me how, that's another story, but the important thing is - nobody did that before, I was so touched and grateful."_

_Garrett stopped his story for a second as they came to a small crossroad, inspecting their surroundings before nodding to the right, and they resumed their walk. All the while Thorin simply waited for the man to continue where he left off. "We formed a duo, doing every job we could get, barely managing to get by. He couldn't do much with what state his leg was at, and his body wasn't as strong either, so it was left mostly to me to do the hard work. I didn't mind, going through every day with a smile, as long as we had eachother I was happy. Then, one day, he came up with an idea. When he told me about it, I was a little skeptical, but gave in in the end. Basically, we started doing... shadier jobs. He found one, he arranged everything and made a plan, and it was up to me to carry it out. At first, they were just simple things, steal something, deliver a warning in one way or another. But over time, as we completed more and more we gained a reputation, and people started coming to us offering jobs that were... much worse. We've also expanded, found a place on the outskirts of the city and formed a guild of sorts."_

_"Of course, our actions didn't go unnoticed. Not long after that, we were labeled as criminals, a bounty made on our heads. Not that we minded at the time, business was growing, we never truly stayed in one place - had many hideouts throughout the city. Meanwhile, however, the condition of his leg was getting worse, to the point where he couldn't walk for more than half an hour before having to sit down, take the weight off the limb. I wanted to stop and disappear before we got caught, but he... he insisted on continuing. Even worse, we started accepting contracts for straight up murders. That was the first time I've noticed he wasn't the same anymore, he even felt uncomfortable when I so much as touched him, but I refused to see it, turning a blind eye to the signs." Garrett released a broken laugh, falling silent for a few long seconds. "Not for long, thought. The facade he kept on started to crack. I knew he wasn't who he made himself seem to be, so much so that I grew cautious, wary of the one person that I thought I could trust the most." Garrett glanced down, raising his hands palms up. The look on his face was that of pure sadness. "I've still killed for him. How stupid I was, thinking that it was nothing, that he was still the same man as in the beginning. That was the problem, thought - he could still be the same, but did I truly know him?"_

_"I remember countless nights waking up, seeing my hands painted with blood that was long washed away but never felt gone, hating myself for the things I've done. Then one day, we have received a big contract - one that could've, possibly, killed many innocent people. Up until then, we killed only those that were, in one way or another, bad people. Those that actually deserved to die. I thought we wouldn't take that contract - but he, he saw it another way. It was then that I finally refused to continue. That night, we fought. He was livid. A lot was said, many harsh words exchanged, but then... something snapped in him. When his eyes found mine, I couldn't recognize him anymore."_

_Thorin sensed the story getting serious, tightening his grip on the lantern in anticipation._

_"The first thing he did, was that he laughed." Out of the corner of his eye, Thorin would swear he saw a shiver run through Garrett's body. "That maniacal laugh haunted me for years, and even if I, for a little while, forget about that night, something always reminds me of it eventually and I'm sent back into this spiral of depression and sorrow and fear of falling asleep. To this day, his words are imprinted in my mind, like a bitter curse."_

_"He said that my role in his plan has been fulfilled, and that broken toys were no longer of any use to him. I didn't know what he meant until I saw a glint of metal coming my way, and in my shock, I didn't manage to jump away in time. The dagger didn't go deep - but it cut through the flesh on my torso nevertheless, creating a big gash. It didn't matter how big the wound was, because I knew the blade was coated in poison, sending me to the ground in an instant, paralyzed. He always used poisons, they were the only weapon he was capable of using, the sleek bastard. He obviously thought I was done for, because no final blow came. Instead, he said a few more things, how it was a pity he lost one of his best puppets, then left the room. Too much of a coward to finish the job. I knew he would send somebody up to collect my corpse soon, but I wasn't ready to die. He forgot one important thing - I saw him prepare both the poison and the antidote to it as well many times, I knew the recipe by heart. And ever since the moment I've noticed something was wrong with him, I carried the antidote on me at all times._

_The speech stopped in favour of a sigh. "Long story short, I've managed to escape, but I couldn't just leave things at that. He wasn't only weak, but dumb as well - it wasn't hard to trace him down. In a few days, I found out where he was hiding at the time, and paid him a visit. It took next to no effort to kill the guards he hired in the last minute, probably fearing I would come, and he was even less of a challenge. I've roped him to his bed, and demanded answers. I knew he accepted the contract, I knew that the plan must've been in action already, and I was certain he had to have counted on the possibility that I would intervene. I wanted to know what he decided to do. He begged like a puppy, spilled everything._

_"I left him roped to that bed as I set the entire building on fire. I've sabotaged his plan, and dropped a few hints to the city's guards. Made sure the entire emporium he has built fell apart like a house of cards. Then I've searched out Gandalf again, and stayed with him ever since. Went with him everywhere, and stood at whatever we called home at the time whenever he had to leave somewhere I couldn't or wasn't allowed to follow. I became this hollow shell once more, just like after my mother's death. It didn't help that I was still a wanted man, 'Beast' they called me - somebody must have spilled my shapeshifting secret. Hunted by the best, in promise of a hefty reward."_

_"Gandalf warned me, you know. When I laid out my decision to try and find my place in this world, he warned me of the evil that resides in those who live in it. And I didn't believe him." The man's expression turned sour, hands tightening into fists as he laughed. "What a fool I was..."_

A call of his name cut through Garrett's bitter laugh. Thorin was almost glad for the intrusion, blinking the picture away, eyes refocusing to find Dwalin staring at him with a serious expression. "Thorin, we have to move."

Without batting an eye, he nodded, calling to everyone to gather up by the elven gate. Though, one half of his mind still stayed on the memory, piecing it all together and trying to recall everything that was said. They didn't truly get to the other thing Garrett wanted to discuss, the mood turned sour after the story, though Thorin assured the man there was nothing to fear - should such pursuers be on their tail, they would have to go through Mirkwood as well if they wanted to catch up. _'I do not think you realize just who these people are, Thorin,'_ the man said. _'They are not your ordinary mercenaries - they are one of the best bounty hunters out there. I highly doubt Mirkwood will stop them.'_ To which Thorin responded with a declaration that they could come if they wanted to meet their end at the end of his blade. _'A brave statement,'_ mused the man, but ultimately agreed to continue with them, if only with Thorin's word that should it come to the point where his presence endangers them all, Thorin wouldn't hesitate to turn him over. He had to agree, but wasn't going to hold to the promise anyway.

Their equipment was thoroughly looked through once more, making sure nothing was forgotten on the ponies before they let them loose again. They were nearly ready to depart when Thorin caught Bilbo's comment, the halfling staring through the gate with unconcealed nervosity. He voiced the exact thoughts coiling through the minds of everyone present. "This forest feels... sick. As if a disease lies upon it." He didn't even try to conceal his anxiety, letting it slip into his voice with next words. "Is there no way around?"

Gandalf was the one to reply. "Not unless you go two hundred miles north, or twice that distance south."

"We cannot afford that," added Thorin dryly, a confirmation coming from Gandalf in the form of a hum.

"Indeed, you can't." The wizard then regarded him with a calculating stare, which Thorin held, frown crossing his features. "Thorin," Gandalf spoke after few heartbeats. "May I have a word with you, alone?"

The glance Gandalf sent in Garrett's direction didn't go unnoticed by Thorin, giving him an idea as to what this will be about. He followed the wizard further away, out of earshot of curious ears, but didn't give him the opportunity to speak first, catching Gandalf off guard with a question. "Is this about Garrett?" No words needed to be said in response, Gandalf's expression enough as a confirmation. "Then perhaps you should know that the man has already told me everything essential regarding his continuation of the journey, meaning also the complications that may come with him staying amongst us."

Gandalf, as was expected, looked momentarily baffled. "Yet you let him continue?" came out of the man eventually. When this was met with nothing but silence, he looked positively nonplussed. "Perhaps he hasn't explained everything very clearly-"

"-I can assure you he was thorough. My decision stays the same."

The wizard fell silent yet again, irritation clear in the expression he wore, before it was all washed away with a long sigh. "I could argue why that is a bad idea, but I feel like my words would fall on deaf ears." One last scrutinizing look and the old man turned to walk away, stopping abruptly after a few steps to twist around and add one more thing. "On you be the consequences of this decision, Thorin."

A short nod in a response, that apparently did nothing to smother the coiling worry in Gandalf's chest, and the wizard was walking away, shouting at Dwalin not to release his pony too, that he still needed the mount. "Remember, this is not the Greenwood of Eld," he began as he threw his leg over the pony's back. "There's a stream in the woods that carries a dark enchantment, do not touch the water. Cross only by the stone bridge." Thorin carefully stored the new pieces of information away even as he started to gather everyone up again. "Even the air in the forest is heavy with illusion that'll seek to empty your mind and lead you astray."

A wave of nervosity washed over the Company as they broke into nervous mumbling. Thorin didn't join in, but had a bit of trouble keeping his own unease at bay.

"You must stay on the path. Do not leave it. If you do, you'll never find it again."

With that, the wizard turned the pony and cantered away, disconcerted eyes watching his retreat. Thorin was the first one to break his gaze away, assuming his position in the front. "Come on, we need to reach the mountain before the sun sets on Durin's day." His words seemed to have broken others out of their dazes as well, as they turned and followed him through the gate and into the murky shade of Mirkwood.

 

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The forest was calm, almost too calm for his liking, as he swept his eyes over it once more. From his position, he could oversee most of their surroundings, counting in the Company which was currently resting below the rocky wall on top of which he sat. Even if he was their scout, he couldn't walk ahead in here, as the danger didn't lie in them running into enemies considering not a soul seemed to be wandering the place. Rather, the forest itself was the main threat - who knows what could come out of one of the twisted trees, or if someone lost the path, even the air couldn't be trusted. He still kept his eyes open and ears strained, of course, but the fact that there was nothing, not even a wind's breeze or any smell at all, just put him more and more on edge with each passing hour. Speaking of time, how long have they been walking for? He couldn't quite seem to remember, despite normally taking care to note such things down. The trees' crowns allowed for but few stray sunstreams to pass, so that was no help too.

He was in the middle of pondering over that question, absent gaze set somewhere down, before a giggle that stood out in the group's chatter made him look over to find Kíli's finger pointed directly at him, whispering something to his brother, the ever cheerful duo snickering to themselves as Daenar's internal voice growled. The scrunching of leaves warned him of footsteps and he whipped his head in the direction of the sound, hand immediately on the pommel of his sword, but relaxed as soon as his eyes found Thorin's. He couldn't help but return the smile the dwarf gave him, albeit just temporarily as he recalled his duty and turned his head to look over the forest's shadows again, smile slipping away.

However, before he could scan much, a hand blocked his view, holding out a waterskin. He glanced sideways at the one offering it, then took the waterskin from Thorin's hand, muttering a thanks before taking a swig. Thorin waved him off when he offered it back, instead sitting down beside him with a huff. Daenar placed the waterskin between them. They sat in silence, Daenar fully content to let it stretch as he once again resumed his watch, but his focus was broken when another laugh sounded from down below. He watched as the dwarves whispered amongst themselves in their newly created circle, and couldn't chase away this gut feeling that the two of them were the topic of their discussion. Again.

It became blatantly obvious when several of them raised their heads to look in their direction, quickly averting their gazes when they realized they were being observed. Daenar chanced a glance to the side, finding out he wasn't the only one who noticed them. Thorin, however, seemed entirely unperturbed by the display, eyes instead dropping down to his lap where he, seemingly out of nowhere, produced a linen bag. It made him question whether the dwarf actually knew what they were blabbering about, or if he was completely oblivious. And whether he should tell him or not. He meant to do that yesterday, but it kind of... was forgotten amidst all the other things they talked about, plus he imagined he kind of stomped the atmosphere enough to the ground with his dumb story which he originally didn't even want to tell, thinking it would only bore Thorin, but the dwarf kept asking questions, and he seemed genuinely interested in Daenar's past...

"Are you hungry?"

The question broke him out of his reverie. He blinked, realizing he was staring dumbly, and quickly brought his gaze down to Thorin's outstretched hand, which he found offering him one half of a bread Thorin broke in two. "Ah, yeah, sure. Thanks," he found himself saying as he took the bread. He wasn't really that hungry yet, but the food will at least recharge his energy, meaning he won't have to worry about it later. Besides, it wasn't like their supplies were scarce.

They ate in silence for a while, as Daenar did his best to ignore the chatter happening below them and forget about it altogether, but although he successfully managed to push it all to the back of his mind, his brain was still too aware that the thoughts were there, throbbing and itching, and in turn, he couldn't focus on anything else.

"Does it bother you?"

"What-" His gaze snapped to the side to find Thorin staring down, and he followed the notional line of his gaze to find his eyes were set on the group of dwarves and a hobbit. "Ah, you mean, them talking?"

"I meant the still air, the unnatural quiet filling the entire forest, and simply... this place, as a whole." Oh. That. "It unnerves me to great extent, I feel its sorcery twirling in my mind, sometimes even whispering, every breath I take feels strangely repulsing." Daenar knew what he was talking about. However, he also found he didn't feel the same way anymore - he did before, but those feelings seemed to be suppressed already. "Strangely, it isn't as strong now," the dwarf added, glancing sideways at him. His eyebrows suddenly pulled together into a frown. "I wonder why...?"

Daenar simply nodded in agreement. "I felt the same way upon entering the forest, but it is no more than an itch now. As for the silence, that still worries me, but slowly, I'm growing accustomed to it. Not sure if that is for better or for worse."

The dwarf took another gulp of water, washing down his mouthful. "So you think we are simply getting used to the environment? Somehow, I'm not seeing that as very likely."

"What do you suggest it is, then? I can't find any other answer."

Thorin hummed, seeming deep in his thoughts all of a sudden. Daenar watched his eyes sweep over the forest's shadows, before the dwarf finally spoke. What he said completely struck him dumb for several seconds. "I believe it is you."

Daenar's body went rigid, as his brain struggled to come up with a reply. Once he found his voice, though, he spoke, barely managing to keep it steady. "I don't think I understand...?"

The dwarf didn't seem to notice his tensing. In fact, Daenar would swear he saw a smile hiding under that beard. "I think your very presence is chasing away the evil of this forest, or something. Could it have anything to do with you controlling magic?"

He actually snorted at the thought, shoulders relaxing as his nervosity slowly started to slip away. "That is just- that is nonsense, Thorin."

"Perhaps it is," said Thorin, a ting of amusement clear in his tone. "But who says it is not possible?"

Daenar decided to humor him. "Yeah, of course, next thing I know, I'll be practicing wizardry." He wiggled a finger in the air, pretending to cast a spell somewhere into the distance, while assuming a voice sounding as deep and elderly as he could muster, proceeding to mumble something incoherent under his beard.

He was glad to see his little show made Thorin huff a laugh, thought he still haven't managed to get Thorin off the topic of magic. "In all seriousness though, don't you have magic coursing through your veins? Because of your shapeshifting abilities?"

That made him pause. He recalled the few conversations he had with Gandalf about this very thing, which always went for hours on end, sprouting more questions than providing answers. "How much do you know about magic, Thorin?"

"Next to nothing, really. The subject always seemed to go over my head."

Daenar acknowledged that with a hum. He would be surprised if the dwarf knew much about the subject, it is rather hard to grasp the concept alone, and not many had managed to uncover the full potential of what they like to call 'magic', outside of the obvious things everyone knows, such as elves - having the ability to see creatures of shadow which come from the Wraith-world, or the fact of their immortality. "The thing is, magic in itself is not something you can define," he started. "It doesn't follow a formula or have limits, neither is it some invisible force moving the wheels of the world as we know it, flowing through the earth beneath our feet and all that exists - living or not. No, it does none of those things. Simply put, it just exists."

He raised a hand in front of himself, focusing his mind, feeling the familiar tingling feeling underneath his skin. Even after all those years, he still didn't know how exactly his abilities work. Shapeshifting was always only something beings of higher existence could do, and he sure as hell wasn't one. There was also Beorn's race, but with those, it was more like an affliction rather than an ability. "Magic takes on many forms, manifests in different ways," he mumbled, dropping the hand. "Hmm. Let's take your sword as an example - it is imbued with a power that makes it glow blue when orcs are around. Or the moon letters on your map, they are also the product of what you would call magic. However, that is not entirely true. The reality is - things and objects, as well as people, have... certain characteristics, some of which are ordinary and visible, while others are only apparent to those who can see the Wraith-world. You are familiar with what Wraith-world is, are you?" Despite the question, he didn't wait for a reply or glance at Thorin for any kind of reaction, continuing right away, too engrossed in his talk. "So, the power of the object comes not from some mystical force, but rather from its craftsmanship at the hands of someone capable of imbuing their work with unseen characteristics that are forever unapparent to those limited only to the ordinary and mundane. That's where the confusion mostly lies. We, as 'lesser beings', simply define these things as magical, because we cannot see into this Wraith-world, where they are but ordinary enhancements and-"

His speech came to a halt as he realized it turned into rambling, shutting his mouth closed. An embarrassed blush spread on his cheeks, sure he must have bored Thorin. "I'm sorry, I kind of got carried away," he apologized sheepishly.

"No, it is okay," Thorin's voice came, laden with an emotion expressing that he didn't mind the little detour deeper into the world of magic. "It was... interesting new knowledge. However, none of it actually seems to untangle my confusion about your abilities."

"Ah, I see. Yes, that was your initial question, sorry." He brought a hand up to run a few fingers through his beard, as it helped him think. "Thing is, actual control of magic was always strictly limited to those of higher existence, such as Valar, Maiar, Istari. Elves, too, though their powers are very limited unless they are direct descendants of High elves. As for dwarves, there are no families that I know of which would have any magical capabilities. Rather, any powerful item that comes out of their smiths is a result of excellent dwarven craftsmanship." He ended his speech there, unsure where to continue.

"What about the race of Men?" asked Thorin after a second went by. "Do they also not have any magical prowess?"

"Oh." Of course, how could he forget the most important part? "Yeah," he began slowly, sorting through his mind. "Yeah, I believe they do, but only the Dúnedain, really. Even their abilities are very limited, thought. Mostly to some healing, flashes of foresight, and the ability to read people - not to be confused with mind-reading, rather more of a quick and accurate assessment of a person's character and the truth of their words. Now, about the... ordinary members of the race of Men.  They can learn sorcery, or use magical weapons, but they pretty much have to be using someone else's power, either through some sort of artifact or through an unholy deal with a Dark Lord. Which, as you can imagine, is strictly forbidden. The latter that is."

A hum came from the dwarf sitting next to him. "How does that explain your situation? Does that mean you are-?"

"-That I'm one of the Dúnedain?" He finished for Thorin, shaking his head. "I don't really know for sure, Gandalf certainly thinks so. However, even if I was, what I can do far surpasses the highest limits of what any Man is capable of, so..." He raised a shoulder in a half-shrug. "I guess I'm just some anomaly, a mistake."

"Do not call yourself that." The harsh tone Thorin spat those words out with made Daenar look up into the eyes of his companion, a little startled. "You are an honorable man, a good companion, and even better friend. Such nicknames do not suit you."

Daenar's eyebrows danced as he struggled to find an emotion that would appropriately describe his current feelings, the turmoil in his mind finally setting on a wry smile and glassy eyes turned downcast, with him having to swallow past the lump that formed in his throat before he could speak. "I- thank you, Thorin."

"There's no need to thank me." A warm hand slipped onto his shoulder, tightening slightly in reassurance. When he looked up, gold meeting Thorin's azure pools, he nearly choked on his breath at the warm smile that graced the dwarf's features. "I'm just stating the truth, Garrett."

They sat there for what felt like hours, eyes locked, neither willing to break the gaze. He didn't even care the look they shared lasted for too long to pass as normal, suddenly overcome by emotions that suppressed all else. It was when he felt his cheeks turn crimson that he broke the gaze. It was him who suggested they should continue, that they tarried for too long. It was him who stood up first, unintentionally shrugging off Thorin's hand. Even though he missed the warmth instantly. Even though his heart sank a little when Thorin's smile was once again replaced with a look full of determination.

Even though the words he buried deep inside were suddenly there, on the tip of his tongue, but he still couldn't find the courage to say them.

Instead, he assumed his place in the front again as Thorin called to everyone that they were to continue. Once he checked over his equipment, his eyes traveled back, following the dwarf's movements, so regal and resolute, so full of confidence. So beautifully elegant in his own way. Once they formed a line again, Daenar shook his head, forcing the thoughts away, and stared ahead dutifully. Thorin would stay at the back, closing the group, as he did since they set foot in this forest. Making sure no one would get lost should they fall victim to the forest's spell. They would get a chance to talk again later.

"Hey," sounded a rumbling voice from behind him, and Daenar nearly jumped out of his skin as he whipped his head back to look at the dwarf that came to stand beside him, confusion written all over his face. Unlike Thorin's, which was outright radiant. "I still have a few questions, if you don't mind me walking with you?"

It took him a second to shake off his confusion. "I have to watch the path, Thorin." Daenar protested half-heartedly, though his smile gave him away.

Thorin turned to look ahead. "Well, you will have two more eyes to focus on your task, I'd say that is a good compensation."

Daenar had no counterargument to that, neither did he want to in all honesty. And if he heard some snickers behind them as they set to walk, it was much easier to ignore them this time around.


	12. Deeper Into Madness

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**Chapter 12**  
**Deeper Into Madness**

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"Here's the bridge!" Bofur stated the obvious as they all trudged towards it. "Well, what's left of it." Thorin almost growled upon seeing that what was supposed to get them over to the other side of the river was destroyed, crumpled pieces of the stone sticking out of the water in some places. "We could swim across," Bofur continued after a pause, the offer immediately shut down by Garrett's tired but stern 'not a chance'.

Thorin couldn't agree more. "Didn't you hear what Gandalf said?" He said, leaning on the nearest tree. His whole body felt heavy, and all he wanted to do was rest for just a bit. He knew it was the forest's magic working its way into his brain, and did his best to ignore the temptation, but damn if it wasn't getting harder by the minute. "The stream is enchanted with dark magic."

"But how do we get across, then?" Someone slurred out. The silence that met the question wasn't a good sign.

Thorin took in a deep breath, willing away the voices that, once again, invaded his mind. He only allowed himself a moment of respite before opening his eyes again, taking to scan the place. He didn't get far before Garrett's figure caught his attention, the man walking towards the river as if in a daze. He immediately shouted his name, exhaustion entirely forgotten as adrenaline kicked in. In few long strides, more like jumps, he was by the startled man, whose eyes looked back at him with confusion once he pulled him further away from the river. "What are you doing?!" It took a moment before the man found his voice again, by which Thorin has already realized how firm of a grip he had on Garrett's arm, quickly retracting his hand and apologizing profusely, mind reeling back to the bruise he left after their fight in Rivendell. "I... thought the enchantment took over your mind."

"What- No, I was just-" Garrett gestured towards the river again, and Thorin followed his hand, immediately finding out what the other had on his mind.

He didn't like it much, and let his skepticism slip into the tone of his voice. "Do you truly think these can hold us?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty reluctant to step on those," came Dwalin's voice.

"I think they can hold us just fine," slurred out Bombur, earning himself a few doubtful and weary looks.

Garrett's sigh told them all they needed to know. He, too, wasn't entirely overjoyed with his find, even as he walked over to the dry and brittle-looking roots and vines. "I'm only assessing our options, it isn't like we have many of them." After a second of reluctance, Thorin joined him, pulling at the roots which wobbled at a small pull. Although they surprisingly seemed sturdy enough, they were too unstable and thus, unreliable. Though, Garrett didn't seem to think so. "Can you pass me the rope, Thorin? I believe it is in your pack."

Instead of doing as asked, Thorin regarded him with a scowl, thinking the man has damn well lost his mind. "Are you seriously considering crossing the stream on these roots?" His voice was loud enough for others to hear what was said, and they immediately broke into protests.

"I wouldn't do so if I didn't have a plan, trust me."

He looked at the unsteady path again, grinding his teeth while he considered their options. "We should at least send the lightest first," he concluded after a while. "Just to be sure-"

"Thorin," Garrett interrupted him with a raised voice, grabbing his attention successfully. It wasn't until their eyes met that he continued. "I'm not going to do anything reckless," he dragged out. "Just hand me the rope, and trust me." It took a moment of staring, as he searched the man's face for something, he didn't even know what, before he finally relented, slipping the pack from his shoulder. With gritted teeth, to keep himself from saying anything, and a few unhappy comments from the others, he offered the rope to Garrett, who inspected its length. "This should do," the man said, following it with a nod and handing the rope back. "Now, I need you to do one more thing - tie it around my belly securely, it will make it easier to carry over to the other side."

To that request, Thorin frowned, a little confused, but didn't have to ponder over the why for long, as Garrett started to transform. In the matter of seconds, everybody was staring down at the black cat that now sat in Garrett's place, watching him intently. It was when Garrett's paw motioned towards his hands did Thorin get out of his daze, expression carefully neutral. Kneeling down by the animal, he began tying the rope as gently and firmly as he could muster, mumbling and cursing under his beard. Of course Garrett would think that _this_ wasn't reckless. Once he was sure the rope was secured well, tugging on it a few times, he gave Garrett the affirmative. It calmed him a little to know that should something fail, they had the man secured and could drag him back. Still, he didn't know what would happen if he dropped to the water. "I hope you know what you're doing."

The cat only whipped its tail sharply from side to side, Garrett letting his irritation with Thorin's over-protectiveness known, before turning to the task at hand. He once again poked at the roots, jumping on top of the first one, then stood there for a second as everyone else collectively held their breaths. Thorin thought the man would realize how crazy his plan was and get back, but then the cat shifted its weight to its hind legs, a flick of the tail the only warning they got before the leap. With heart in his throat, while lightly holding the rope so he could grip it just in case, Thorin watched as Garrett pounced, one wobbly root to the other, graceful and elegant in his acrobatics, even seemed to make a show for them once or twice as he did a little spin in the air here, or a twist there. All to spite Thorin even further, no doubt.

The man was almost on the other side when the rope caught, almost sending him down. Thorin immediately tightened his hands around the rope, ready to step in, but Garrett managed to grasp the next root, pulling himself on top of it. Once he caught his bearings, he sent a short nod Thorin's way, and they managed, after some fiddling, to free the rope from the vines it got entangled in. The rest went without a problem, and all of them released the breaths they were holding as Garrett found himself on the other side, immediately working on untying the knot with his teeth to free it from around his belly. As soon as that was done, the man transformed back, and tied the rope around the first sturdy trunk in his vicinity, though Thorin noticed he was a little sluggish.

On the other side of the river, they secured the rope in a similar fashion, Balin having the bright idea to do so a little higher so they could simply slide on it using any piece of cloth they could find as a pulley. Thorin made sure it was as taut as possible before he let Bilbo take a go at it first, him going next when it worked like a charm. After his landing, he stayed to help the others cross as well. However, there was a feeling he had, one he couldn't chase away, as if something was wrong. It was Bilbo's voice, repeating Garrett's name, that brought his gaze to where the halfling was kneeling next to Garrett sitting on the ground, eyes set down and posture slumped, his head only hanging to the side.

Thorin's post was quickly abandoned as he hurried over, kneeling by the man, hooking a finger under his chin and using it to raise Garrett's head, the unnerving feeling inside his chest only growing when the man's eyes couldn't seem to focus on any certain point, darting around and eventually just closing completely as any attempts to concentrate were given up on. "'m sorry, it... it feels like, uh, the transfo- the transformation has really worn me down."

Thorin's frown only deepened at the statement. He knew their crossing couldn't go without any complications. "I told you it was a bad idea."

"We... are on the other side. Aren't we?" Garrett sounded a little irritated, though it was hard to tell as the man's voice was very weak.

A hum in response was all he could muster. This, much like their drowsiness, had to be caused by Mirkwood's enchantments as well. If you asked him, it looked like the forest drained Garrett's stamina, which, combined with how tired they already were before, must have had quite a heavy impact. "Can you stand?" Thorin asked instead of more scolding comments.

"Yes, yes- just give me... ah, give me a..." Thorin hummed again as he watched Garrett struggle to stand up, biting down on his tongue to keep himself from saying anything he would instantly regret. Instead, he occupied his mind by making it try to come up with solutions to their issue, one glaringly obvious striking him right away, but it was something he would only fall back on as their last resort. However, as seconds ticked by with no other thought in sight, Thorin slowly steeled himself for the suggestion he was going to make, both mentally and physically, while not realizing his gaze bore into Garrett's in a quite unnerving fashion. "I don't think I like that look, Thorin," the man finally said through gritted teeth, bringing him back to reality.

"We have to keep moving." Taking a break now would be a mistake, as they were all risking dozing off. That was what the forest wanted, it would mean the end of them. Thus, Thorin got up, taking Garrett with him as the man yelped, then took the man's pack as well, swinging it over his arm. "I assume you will not be able to change forms for a while, am I right?" Garrett confirmed that with a 'yeah'. "Leaving us with only two options - we can either carry you or, if you can walk, you can just lean on me. Either way, we have to keep you awake."

"The lad cannot walk, that's fer sure." Thorin turned his head to look at Dwalin, who came to stand beside him, pointing at Garrett's shaking legs. Behind the dwarf, the rest of the Company has already crossed the river, Bofur cutting the rope and storing the remains of it, and Balin walking up right after Dwalin to see what's going on, while others trudged towards them. "He needs ta rest."

"What is the issue?" Balin asked, though nobody had to answer as he eyed the state in which Garrett was. The man would crumple to the ground were it not for Thorin holding him up.

"Oh, for the love of-" Garrett seemed to dislike the attention he was receiving, especially when worried questions came from each newcomer. "I will be fine, just give me a moment-"

"-No," Thorin cut the man off, and with it, everyone else as well. "It is decided - you will be carried for a while, until you recover."

"Um," piped up Bofur. "There might be slight problem with that." Thorin regarded him with a frown, bidding him to continue. "Dori was carrying the stretcher, you see, and his pack kind of..." One of Thorin's eyebrow slowly rose as Bofur gestured towards the stream wildly.

It was Nori, who, seeing that Bofur couldn't get a word out of himself, finished the sentence. "It wasn't secured enough and fell into the river, which swept it away."

A great number of seconds passed as Thorin fully processed the new information, after which an internal growl was released. _Great_ , Thorin thought to himself while turning his gaze away from Bofur, working his jaw. The dwarves around him burst into a heated discussion shortly afterwards, from swearing to thinking of new ideas, slowly giving him a headache. Once he had enough, which didn't take long, all voices were cut short with a shout. "Enough!" All eyes set on him as he shrugged off all his bags and packs, leaving them to fall on the ground. "We will have to do with what we have. Óin," he turned at the dwarf, who seemed to be one of the only ones not fully out of their mind yet. "You were given many herbs by the Giant, correct?" Óin nodded in confirmation. "Can you prepare something to bolster our minds and bodies? If only temporarily."

"Of course, I will have to use some of our water though, and bring it to a boil so I need a fire as well." Even as he was saying that, Thorin gestured for Gloin, who was carrying the supplies needed to start a fire, so he would help Óin, while he himself turned to Dwalin and Dori; the strongest in their group.

"Dwalin, Dori, should Óin's decoctions not be enough for Garrett to walk on his own, I will need you to carry both his and mine packs."

"Are you planning what I think you are, Thorin?" Asked Dwalin, a ting of amusement in his voice. Thorin sent him a glare in return, easing it into a carefully neutral expression as he glanced Garrett's way. The man was staring at him with confusion plastered on his face, his hand clutching Thorin's sleeve in a desperate attempt to keep himself from falling down, even as Thorin secured him with a hand around his bicep. Thorin held the gaze for a moment, contemplating whether this was truly a good idea or not, then, settling on something in between, spoke. If nobody had a better idea, this would do.

"Until you can walk on your own, I'm offering you my back."

 

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The forest grew denser past the bridge, that was clear, even the stone path the company of unusual visitors roaming the forest desperately clung to was harder to follow, broken in some places while in others, a part of it outright missing. Daenar kept his mind clear of intrusive thoughts and eyes trained on the one and only thing separating them from getting out of this cursed forest or becoming the victims of its dark enchantment, never to find a way out again. The stone path was already buried under roots, leaves and vegetation, its following made even harder by the night that fell on them some time ago, coating everything in thick blackness. If someone thought the forest was dark previously, they would quickly change their mind upon seeing it now; it was hard to see one's feet, let alone a path of dark, mossy stones. They had taken out their torches, but Thorin only allowed for two of them to be lit, one carried by him in the front, the other by whoever was closing the group at the back. They were to walk in pairs, keeping eyes on eachother to make sure noone goes astray.

He rolled his shoulder again, as he did practically every five minutes now, to stretch the tense knot forming from having the limb constantly thrown over Thorin's shoulders. Luckily, it didn't get to Thorin having to carry him, Daenar was surprised by the offer alone. He would be too embarrassed to climb on Thorin's back though, carried like a child, and was glad whatever it was Óin had cooked up actually worked like a miracle - well, he still had to hold onto someone to walk, but at least his legs stopped shaking and didn't feel like falling off anymore. Seriously, it was like a punch, when his transformation ended, one second he was relatively fine and then, when human again, as if all strength left him at once. He had barely managed to shuffle to the tree and tie the rope.

Daenar suddenly realized he stood in mud, and quickly looked further forward. As far as the light from the torch could reach, there was no sight of stone slabs, making him stop abruptly. "Thorin, wait." The dwarf did as told, albeit with a little delay, and gazed at him with weary expression. It was disconcerting how wore down they already were. "The path," he mumbled, ignoring the dwarf's apparent sleepiness for now in favour of finding the path again. That was of utmost importance.

A flash of panic ran across Thorin's face momentarily as he looked around frantically, breathing out a sight of relief not long after."He is right," said their leader, as he pointed somewhere behind them. Daenar squinted his eyes, and sure enough, there was the stone, twisting around a tree, only barely illuminated by their light. "Let's go," the dwarf got out of himself without a delay, and started walking in the new direction, but not before hooking an arm around Daenar's waist to pull him along. Daenar didn't even have the energy to feel abashed at the gesture, just trudged along with the dwarf as the whole group turned like a snake's body and followed their leading duo.

At some point, the air thickened enough so that it was increasingly harder to take in a full lungful, and with it, the exhaustion grew as well. It squeezed his lungs so much it occasionally turned his vision blurred and made him feel lightheaded, at times even nauseous. There were several moments when they almost missed their path, lead astray by weary vision and wobbly legs, aching bones protesting against each and every move. God, they had to be such a pitiful sight right now, a band of naive idiots thinking they could conquer this forest alone.

 _No_ , he reminded himself, or more like scolded. This was not over yet, they would get out of Mirkwood or die trying.

Thinking of which, dying didn't seem like the worst option right at the moment, it would mean he could lie down finally, and let his protesting body rest for a while...

As quickly as the thoughts appeared, Daenar shook them away, eyes wide with shock. That wasn't him whispering. That wasn't what he wanted to do. That was the enchantment worming its way into his mind, trying to embed deep inside and control his thoughts. He had to resist the temptation, endure the pain and ache spreading through the entirety of his being. No matter how hard a struggle it seemed to be...

They continued like this for quite a while before somebody finally fell. Bombur was out like a light before he even hit the ground, and others quickly followed too, unable and unwilling to so much as move anymore. They begged for rest, just a few hours they repeated, not waiting for an assent as their words were soon followed by snores.

"You should get some rest, too," said Thorin, sitting down by a tree. _Even he doesn't protest anymore_ , Daenar would think dryly as he watched, feeling weak without the support of Thorin's shoulders. "I will wake Dwalin up in a few hours to trade with me..."

Daenar could hardly believe the situation they were in. They didn't know if something wouldn't ambush them here, they didn't know if they could even wake up at all, but at the same time, they couldn't continue like this anymore. Not when every step seemed like torture, and their heads like exploding. It was risky, but so was pressing on. With a heavy sigh laden with severe exhaustion, he sat down by the dwarf, propping himself on the same trunk which was too small for the both of them, but he didn't mind how close to eachother that made them sit. After all, they had been bodily pressed together for god knows how long now, an inevitability that came with having one's arm thrown over other's shoulders. "Someone has to make sure you don't fall asleep too," he retorted, wiggling a little and managing to press even closer to the dwarf. He couldn't help it, Thorin was giving out so much warmth, it would be a shame to let it go to waste.

Thorin actually didn't seem to mind. He even huffed a laugh. "Your selfless demeanour can get on one's nerves sometimes."

A snort escaped Daenar. He would hardly call himself selfless, just considerate. "You are one to talk, Thorin. You've been longer on watches than the rest of us combined. Sometimes, I wonder if you sleep at all."

Only a hum came out of the dwarf in response. It spoke volumes about how far they came as friends when Thorin didn't immediately get on the defensive, trying to twist his way out of the smallest, meaningless accusations with some reasoning, as he did with everybody else. Daenar took comfort in the silence that filled the very limited space between them, closing his eyes and trying to ignore the loud snores from the rest of the Company, focusing on the heat the two of them shared. He could get used to moments like this, without the threat looming around them of course.

"Garrett?" Thorin's deep voice popped his cloud of thoughts after a moment passed, and he hummed to tell the dwarf he was still awake and heard him. "May I ask a question? One I have been meaning to ask for some time now."

"Sure, ask away," Daenar murmured without a second thought, eyes still closed, a ghost of a smile dancing on his lips.

"I've heard Beorn call you by a nickname. Dénar?" Daenar's eyes flew open as if he got struck by lightning, exhaustion completely forgotten as his body tensed, red flags going off inside his head. Thorin, oblivious, continued. "Is it in the language of his people? And what does it mean?" It took several heartbeats where no answer came for him to notice how high-strung the man sitting by his side suddenly was. "Garrett? Is everything okay?"

As if slapped across the face, Daenar jumped and his eyes traveled to where Thorin leaned his head forward, meeting the dwarf's gaze in the dark. However, their eyes were locked only briefly before Daenar averted them again. He knew Thorin heard Beorn call him that, of course, but thought it was already forgotten, thrown away as something small and insignificant. Apparently not.

At the same time, though, was it that big of a deal at this point? In the beginning, he wasn't sure whether he could trust this unusual group Gandalf had lead him to, hence the new name, but how about now?

"You... don't have to answer, if the topic is uncomfortable for you."

When Daenar's eyes met Thorin's again, the panic in them was no longer so large, he no longer felt the need to look away. Instead, he studied the dwarf's face, eyes darting around, and slowly, resolution overcame any other emotion, Daenar giving himself a mental nod. Considering how exhausted they were, Thorin will probably not remember a thing that was said right at the moment, anyway. "No, I do believe you should know," he finally said, looking down at where he rubbed his hands together in a calming fashion. "It is not a nickname. Daenar is... it is my, well, true name."

There was a moment of silence that followed his statement, as Thorin took in the information no doubt. When his voice inevitably came, it lacked any anger whatsoever. Rather, he seemed... shocked? Hurt? Mildly confused? Honestly, Daenar couldn't describe the emotion, because he never heard such a voice leave Thorin before. The closest it came to this that he could think of was when Thorin apologized to him in High Pass. It made him feel somewhat guilty all of a sudden. "Why hide it?"

"Isn't it kind of self-explanatory?" He tried to defend his actions, seemingly to both himself and Thorin. "Thorin, it is the name under which I've used to be known, still am known. Even if Gandalf assured me you were a trustworthy lot, I still decided to take at least some precaution." He shrugged weakly, deciding on honesty to be the best course of action. "It wasn't like it mattered really, as I wasn't planning to get this much involved, anyway."

"... You never planned to reveal your true self to us."

He suppressed the urge to groan, though his voice gathered a bit of a bite. "Listen, I do not trust people easily, okay? I have a damn good reason not to."

Another moment of silence, making the snores nearly unbearable. "But, you trust us now. Don't you?" He was about to say that of course, he did, but didn't manage to get anything out of himself in time, cut by the dwarf immediately. "If we didn't find out on our own, if Rivendell didn't happen, do you think you would have told us at some point?"

Daenar felt anger and irritation bubble to the surface. "Does it matter, really? It's just a stupid name, Thorin," he grit out.

"I'm not talking about the name now."

 _What-_ The stern look Thorin was giving him stopped him dead. It took a moment for him to realize, this wasn't only about the name anymore. The dwarf was referring to everything else, too. That brought a flash of emotions to cross his features, as a turmoil began in his own mind. "If I am to be completely honest, I don't know," Daenar confessed on a sigh after a short while.

Thorin didn't say anything, probably deciding whether that was enough of an answer or not. Meanwhile, Daenar's fiddling with his hands intensified as he grew increasingly more agitated with each passing second. Hoping his response didn't anger the dwarf, or give him the impression that Daenar still didn't trust them. He did, just... without knowing that they, in fact, didn't mind him being a shapeshifter, he didn't know whether he would confess just like that or not. It was like a miracle when Thorin's calm voice intercepted the night again. "Considering how important the secret seems to be to you, I'll take your indecisiveness as a good sign." A weak sigh of relief escaped Daenar, sagging deeper against the tree. He knew that was as good an acceptance as he could hope to get from Thorin in situations such as this one, and, in hope no other surprise question would come from the dwarf, provided only a simple affirmative in the form of a quiet hum. Despite his little prayer, Thorin's voice still came, though he was glad to find it was no further prodding. In fact, the question that was raised by the dwarf was one that made the corner of his mouth turn up in a light smile. "So, do I still call you Garrett, or would you prefer…?"

"I would like if we could stay at Garrett, yeah. I grew quite fond of that name, to be honest. Also..." He turned his eyes to the dwarf sitting next to him, catching his gaze, eyes soft. "I feel like he... he finally found a place in this world. Something Daenar never seemed to achieve. Or, at least, his last attempt ended in a failure of quite huge proportions."

He caught the little sparkle in Thorin's eyes, and the hint of a smile underneath his beard. Even as the dwarf gave him only a nod, and brough his gaze away with a murmur that they should be on guard, Daenar knew Thorin was keeping back on words. He didn't have to say a thing, because Daenar knew, he understood what went on in Thorin's mind. Because the same thoughts ran through his, as well. And with that, he leaned back again, letting himself get absorbed in their duty once more, fully content in the moment.

Time passed slowly after that. The only words the two of them exchanged were to make sure the other hasn't fallen asleep yet, before returning to the silence again. Sooner than he thought, Daenar found his eyes drooping, unable to keep them open anymore, and finally gave in to Thorin's persuading to take at least a short rest. Sleep came for him rather fast, unsurprisingly, and when he woke up, the night was no longer so dark. It seemed dawn would come soon. Which would mean he got at least four or so hours of sleep in. A glance to the side revealed Thorin to be in a deep slumber, which honestly calmed him down, too. He was afraid the dwarf would be too stubborn to have some rest. Deciding to keep watch until everybody else woke up too, Daenar gave Dori, who took over Thorin before, a nod in a silent message that he would take over his post now.

However, it didn't take long before he felt Thorin stir awake. _'Didn't get that much of sleep, did you?'_ he found himself retort wryly, which Thorin dismissed, saying he went to sleep close after him. That calmed Daenar's worries slightly, and he let the whole thing slip, silently glad he had company again. Because soon, the eery quiet of Mirkwood started giving him the chills again, only the sounds of a group of dwarves sleeping scattered on the ground in front of them being, next to Thorin, the only things able to keep him from succumbing into madness. He had no idea how much time has passed when a faint sound reached his ears, distinct from the usual. Like a thin twig breaking, only it came from above. Immediately, his eyes shot up, vision blurring for a second, as he tried to focus on catching something, anything; another sound, a hint of a movement, a flicker in the night.

"Anything wrong?" asked Thorin, noticing his sudden stiffness. He sounded weary still, as if the question was more so a mandatory one, rather than out of concern.

Daenar let a few seconds tick by, as his mind tried its best to notice anything out of the ordinary. It could've very well only been his imagination, but what if...

 _My head's playing tricks on me_ , he thought, bringing his gaze back down. "It is nothing, must have been my imagination."

He had barely finished the sentence when another crack sounded, only from much closer. This time, Thorin has definitely heard it too, as he was the first one to scramble up and draw his sword, Daenar following soon after. They stood side by side in tense silence, staring up into the tree crowns for any sign of movement, holding their breaths as if it could somehow disturb the moment.

Several heartbeats passed, where the tension hanging in the air was almost palpable, and both of them wondered whether they didn't fall into another of the forest's tricks, when they heard another, unmistakable cracking sound. Thorin immediately took that as the final cue that something was up, and shouted for the others to wake up, while Daenar still kept his eyes open, staring into the darkness above with hawk eyes, even as snoring started being replaced by confused and irritated mutters and scoffs.

 _There_ , a flicker of movement caught his attention and he focused on that spot, but couldn't discern a thing. Not like he was given enough time because then, out of the corner of his eyes, he caught another shift in the dark accompanied by yet another snap, diverting his gaze towards the new spot. This time, he finally had the chance to glimpse what it was that observed them, lurking in the shadows. Except, the figure didn't look like an animal as he expected, or a monster, but rather a...

His eyes grew twice their size as the realization dawned on him like a bucket of cold ice, and he could only stand there, petrified, face as pale as the moon. They were here.

Distinctly, a call of his name could be heard. Muffled, as if he was underwater, for his brain didn't, couldn't, focus on anything but the horrifying reality of the moment, that swooped in like a hurricane. His legs turned into jelly, eyes focusing on that one spot, on those eyes staring now directly into his.

They were here for him.


	13. Cast of Doubt

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**Chapter 13**  
**Cast of Doubt**

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Thorin found himself seething as he clutched his sword in a grip so tight the knuckles paled, a stark contrast to the rest of his skin, reddened with anger and the intense bloodthirst that boiled through his veins from the moment he found out who the attackers were. A tight circle was formed by the Company, most of the group confused and still half-asleep, but as battle ready as possible. While they restlessly shifted their weight from one foot to the other with raised weapons, their enemies stood unnervingly calm both around them and in the trees above, faces hidden behind hoods too long and invisible eyes staring with mild interest. Their weapons, most of which were bows, rested loosely by their sides, as if they weren't holding the lives of the company of travelers in hands. Thorin tried to count them, finding six in total, but more could be hiding.

It was when he felt Garrett shift next to him that he finally broke the hateful scowl directed towards the one enemy standing in front of him, and when the man tried to step out of the circle, Thorin's hand immediately shot out to stop his advance. Garrett, it seemed, was expecting the resistance, and with a heavy sight, turned to look him in the eyes. "We had an agreement, Thorin."

"What agreement?" Blurted out Dwalin from Thorin's left, eyes still firmly kept on the enemy.

"None," was his response, purposefully acting like he didn't notice Garrett's confused, quickly turned annoyed, look. "I'm terminating it with immediate effect."

The outburst that came almost immediately after wasn't something he didn't expect. "They have the upper hand, Thorin," spat out Garrett, raising his voice with next words. Thorin noticed the small falters and shakes in the man's voice. He was scared. Of course the man would be scared, the ambushers were demanding his life for crying out loud, yet still he cared about their safety more than his. Or he knew he wasn't going to walk out of here alive either way, and was choosing the better option, but somewhere deep Thorin knew the former was the case, and it made him even more, if that was even possible, bent on not simply throwing him to those bastards like a bone to dogs. "We are in no position to fight them, It is either me, or all of us! The choice here is obvious. I told you, should my presence endanger-"

"-We have no reason to believe they will let us be!" Thorin outright shouted back.

As soon as a male voice came, Thorin whipped his head back the enemy's way, scowl in place again, finding the source to be the one hooded thug standing in front of Thorin and Garrett. "We will. You have my word," he croaked out, arms crossed over his chest. The man seemed entirely bored. "As I've said, nobody needs to die here, if you give us what we're asking for peacefully." Like asking for a sacrificial sheep, like bargaining with a merchant on something as small as food. A life of an innocent man the item of exchange, which they would 'resell' for some coin.

"Your words account to nothing to me," Thorin spat out. "I know all the tricks of murderers, mercenaries and whatnot. You will not fool me."

"They never go willingly." The man sighed, finally moving his hood back a notch, looking at Thorin with unnaturally bright green eyes and a toothy grin. He was probably pretty young, possibly in his late twenties, though the hollow cheeks and deep-set eyes with dark circles underneath ruined the picture. However, that taunting grin, showing teeth, was what caught and held Thorin's attention. "It makes it more fun killing them, don'tcha agree, Drerin?"

A wave of unease could be felt rolling off the company at those words, tightening their circle. Unlike Thorin, whose head became a mess of thoughts. The name. It struck something in him, it felt as if he has heard it before. "Calm your tits, Bruce," replied another hooded figure, Drerin if Thorin had to assume, in a gruff voice, and came to stand beside the man who spoke previously. He was smaller in height, but what he lacked in height he had in muscles, the robe thrown over his armor bulging with each movement so much Thorin was expecting it to rip in the next moment. "We will be killing noone today."

Drerin took off his hood, revealing a scruffy face, tired eyes and a messy greying mohawk. Immediately, it became clear that in front of them stood a dwarf. However, he had no beard, only a bit of scruff, and no braids were to be seen, either. That could only mean one thing. Before Thorin could inspect more, the dwarf continued. Their eyes locked, and Thorin, already having a guess as to what was happening, found out with only mild surprise Drerin's were filled with something akin to shame. "I know that dwarf, and probably could recognize a few of the others, as well," the dwarf said, before bowing with a hand on his chest. "Prince Thorin," came from him on a breath, taking everyone by surprise.

All eyes were now set on the bowing dwarf, confusion clear in the air. However, most confused out of everyone seemed to be his band, mainly Bruce. The man stood staring at his friend with mouth hanging open, taking a few attempts to get a word out. "Oi, Drerin, the hell's goin' on in here?"

Thorin intended to find out. Somewhere behind him, someone repeated Drerin's name and and the sound of struggle could be heard, but Thorin paid it no mind. "Who are you?" He asked, easing his posture a little, but remained on guard still. The mood swing in everyone present was quite drastic; especially Garrett, standing next to him, seemed quite puzzled. Thorin, however, felt only a spark of hope come alive deep within his chest - if what he thought was going on indeed turned out to be true, it could mean a possible way out of this plight.

"My name is Drerin," the dwarf said before straightening back up, though this time, his eyes were kept firmly on the ground.  "And I had once been a member of your grandfather's personal guard."

"It is you, Drerin!" came Balin's voice after the dwarf finally shouldered his way through the rest.

"Balin?" Drerin exclaimed with a noticeable surprise embedded in his voice, almost choking on the name. It was when Thorin saw Balin run up to the other dwarf with a happy cry and hug him around his torso, too small to reach higher, and Drerin immediately return the embrace, that all finally fell in place. That was all he needed to finally put his sword down, and just gaze at the happy reunion with the corner of his mouth curved upwards.

"Shit," said Bruce, scratching his head as he too watched his leader sport a rare smile, going from one ear to the other. His eyes switched between the two dwarves and Thorin a few times. "Now this is quite the peculiar situation," he finally noted, sighing audibly.

A peculiar one, indeed.

 

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To say he wasn't very sure about the new state of things was an understatement. Daenar searched, desperately, for any clue as to what kind of tricks these people were playing, eyes darting between the strange band of bounty hunters. Six of them. He simply couldn't ease his guard down around these people, no trust to be found within him just yet. A part of him couldn't help to wonder, how were they planning to go about this? Would they slice his throat in his sleep? Would they try to separate the Company so they're easier to defeat? After all, they had the numbers advantage, fifteen against six, a cautious approach would be what he would opt to as well should he had found himself in their position. Earn his prey's trust before stabbing it in the back. He just couldn't fathom one thing - the _why_. Not directed to their enemies, no, but to the Company itself.

Why were they sitting around a fire with people who have been after him for years, exchanging stories as if nothing was wrong in the whole wide world. It felt so surreal, to be in this position. Not knowing whether you should fear a silent slice of steel in the dark or make the seemingly crazy - no, insane - decision to trust these people. Of course, the rest of Drerin's band was, at first, wary of trusting him, too. Half of them still seemed to be. They were apparently told of 'a bloodthirsty beast that needs to get its head chopped off', but it looked like changing opinions and conclusions was frequently the order of the day, because now, he was flanked by a middle-aged woman with curiosity that could battle any scholar and a tongue so fast it was hard to understand her sometimes, and on the other side sat Thorin, a calming anchor in this madness. Even he, though, seemed to have adapted quite fast to how things were, much like everybody else.

Rolling his gaze towards the dwarf, Daenar found Thorin's eyes looking, staring, in his direction already, though not directly at him. Thorin seemed to be inspecting the woman, who apparently didn't notice a thing as her blabbering didn't bear a sign of stopping at all. However, when the dwarf noticed Daenar's gaze, he broke the staring, locking their eyes instead. Without a word, a nod was given, then he averted his eyes towards the bonfire. Daenar didn't know what to make of that, but he wasn't given much more time because the woman's next question caught his ears.

"So, what's the story behind that scar, man?"

Her bright blue eyes bore a spark when he found them, dripping with fascination, unlike Daenar's. This was a tricky one. Up until now, the questions asked were the yes/no types, meaning he could shake or nod his head without giving his answers much thought. Not this time, though. To be fair, he would rather not have answered at all, but he should probably at least pretend to make a token effort in socializing with these people, let them think he is trying to trust them. It was the least he could do to not give out just how much it was the case of the opposite. With that, his mouth opened and closed, as he mulled over the best answer that would satisfy her and at the same time get across a hint that the topic was not one he was very comfortable with. "It happened when I was younger, during... an incident."

To his surprise, the woman's eyes widened, as did her smile, and no words left her mouth for the next few seconds. Had to be the record. "Oh you have a lovely voice!" She uttered ultimately, completely off the initial topic, as Daenar felt his face heat up. "Must be getting a lot of women with your looks paired with that baritone, eh?"

 _Honestly, what the hell?_ "I- what? No. I, um-" He stumbled over his words, blaming his inability to form a coherent sentence on how tired and confused he still was.

"-And those eyes, damn, they're to be lost in," she continued, his sputters going ignored. "Like liquid gold!"

Daenar couldn't force a word out, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. In an act of pure desperation, he looked at Thorin for help, finding the dwarf staring at him with a strange look. The blush that now spread all the way to the tips of his ears turned crimson under the scrutiny, even more at a loss for words than before. "W-what."

To make matters worse, snickers and giggles came from the Company. "He doesn't receive compliments very well, m'lady!" Bofur shouted over the fire before letting out a laugh.

"Oh, isn't he just adorable?" The woman happily supplied, and with that, more huffs of laughs could be heard. Daenar couldn't help but feel like a damn puppy or something that would be considered similarly 'cute', caught in the company of children which all wanted to pet him or rub his belly. Now that was a _very_ disturbing thought. The worst part was when Kíli joined in on the fun, at least they thought it was fun, at which Daenar had to hide his face in hands. Not just in shame, mind you, but also emotions far worse.

The excited babble continued for what felt like minutes until a firm voice cut through it all with just two words, enough for everyone to fall silent. "That's enough," Thorin growled. "You're making him uncomfortable." Daenar couldn't keep in the groan that built in his throat. _Damn it, Thorin, that_ **_certainly_ ** _sounds as if talking about a pet_. What's next, was he going to be dragged on the dwarf's lap, hair petted in comfort? Will they give him a bone to chew his frustration out on? When Thorin spoke next, it was but a soft murmur, enough to reach his ears only. "You should catch some more sleep."

"No," he muttered, making to stand up. "I need to be left alone for a minute." All eyes were on him as he stood, which he used to excuse himself, loud enough to be heard by everyone, doing a little hurried bow. Not a second was spared to wait for a response as he spun around, strolling deeper into the forest. When he was sure he was still in sight, but far enough for the others' chatter to be nothing but a soft babble in the background, Daenar leaned on a tree, succumbing into his thoughts.

The trepidation couldn't be chased away no matter how hard he tried. He wasn't sure what unnerved him more, the feeling of utter betrayal on everyone's side, or the fact that Thorin was amongst them as well. The dwarf knew much more of Daenar's past than everyone else, he knew about the hunters way before the rest of them did. Yet it seemed he was also the first to believe their nonsense. Thorin had to have a good reason to do so, surely, but it still left a bitter taste on Daenar's tongue, and mind burning with a number of questions sprouting from his anger and frustration.

The brooding session didn't take long. Despite his best efforts, Daenar soon felt unease creep into his bones, and, albeit reluctantly, went back to where he initially ran from, though he chose to sit a little aside, still not quite comfortable to sit with the others. Even if he received a few glances, Daenar paid them no mind, propping himself on the boulder he chose as his backrest and opted to staring a hole into the ground, letting his thoughts run free once more. Albeit quite loud, the chatter actually strangely helped him think. Though, Kíli's often animated talking tended to get much louder than necessary as the young dwarf couldn't seem to be able to tell a story without himself dissolving into a fit of giggles and sputters in the middle of sentences, which quickly turned into a quite disrupting factor. Nevertheless, all could be overlooked as long as he wasn't being deliberately disturbed, left to his own moment of peace.

Someone had a different idea, though. Daenar's eyes rolled in the direction from which rustling came, signalling a pair of boots walking towards him, and, upon spotting the intruder, he released an internal groan. "Came to talk sense to me?" Daenar asked as soon as the person was close enough to hear, voice laced with boredom mixed with irritation.

Fíli only motioned next to where he sat. Contrary to the usual, the prince's expression was carefully neutral, missing the characteristic grin everyone was used to seeing on both brothers at most times. "Mind if I join you?"

The fact that no answer came from the dwarf already told him all he needed. Releasing an audible sight, he gave Fíli a nod, telling himself that, considering the options, the dwarf wasn't the worst one who could approach him. Even if it sometimes may not have seemed like it, Fíli was quite wise and sensible, liked to watch from afar and create his own picture of things first rather than making hasty conclusions and hot-headedly charging straight into offense, much like his brother. Despite that, he was still not afraid to step in should he conclude it was needed, and held peace and friendship above anything else. Though his eyes were still filled with mischief and youth, there was a king hiding behind them, that much Daenar could tell. Which was why he knew, the dwarf wasn't here to offer, to Daenar empty, words of assurance in hopes to placate. That still didn't mean he had to like the inevitable conversation.

"I haven't talked to you in a while," began the prince upon being seated as comfortably as the ground allowed. "Missed it, to be honest."

"I'm sorry, it wasn't my intention to avoid you," he muttered back.

"I figured. Which is why I'm glad to have caught you in a rare moment of availability." A hum was the only response to Fíli's words, and it wasn't until a few seconds of silence later that he continued. "How are you holding up, what with all the..." The prince motioned around in an uncharacteristically nervous fashion, earning himself a raised brow in response.

"Betrayal?" Daenar offered. "Foolishness? Backstabbing?"

"What? No!" Fíli looked positively horrified, while Daenar's expression remained completely emotionless. "You know we would never- Is that really what you think-"

"-What else would you call this then, Fíli? You literally sided with the enemy."

"We did not- I mean-" After a few more sputters, the bridge of the dwarf's nose was pinched between two fingers as he struggled to keep his frustration at bay, something that didn't happen very often. Daenar had to have caught him off guard. He could nearly hear the turmoil inside Fíli's head. That is, until something in him snapped. "Do you think your solution wasn't a betrayal for us?" When Fíli's eyes found his, they bore hardness Daenar got to see but a few times in the time he has know the dwarf. With them, the atmosphere also changed. "To go to the executioner's block without a fight, like-"

"-I did that to protect you!" Upon realizing he raised his voice enough for a few heads to turn their way, Daenar lowered it with his next words. Luckily, Kíli's voice quickly drew the attention away once more. "This way, we have achieved exactly nothing. In fact, it is even worse, because we are still surrounded."

"Of course you think we would just dismiss your death with a wave of a hand." The dwarf scoffed, and mumbled something under his beard with an unhappy frown, though before Daenar could retort something, he beat him to it. "I never pegged you for a dimwit. You aren't just a dwarf-friend anymore, Garrett, all of us take you as family. And family never abandons eachother." That gave Daenar a stop, rendered speechless as his brain tried to process what it was receiving. "Look, I did not come here to fight," the dwarf ultimately sighed out with a dismissive wave of a hand. "Can I just try and explain the situation? It will all make sense, trust me."

Despite his anger being diminished, Daenar still wasn't overly convinced about the state of things. "I do not care for explanations," came his retort. "Unlike you, I will not be buttered up by fake smiles and empty words from a bunch of killers."

"Things are not as you might think."

"Oh, I know how things are. You're a bunch of gullible idiots who think those murderers or assassins or whatever the hell they call themselves just snapped a finger and are the good guys all of a sudden, turned over a leaf." He did not like swearing. It was something he fell back on only in very specifically bad or frustrating moments. However, this was such a case. Fíli's palm raised in an attempt to stop him was promptly ignored. "Now, hold on to something, because I'm about to drop a bomb on you - they never fucking do. Even if, by any chance, a speck of guilt or enlightenment ever appeared, at the end of the day, the promise of gold overshadows it all."

"Are you quite done?" Fíli said in a sharp whisper, dripping with impatience. His eyes darted around before returning to Daenar's. "As I said, just let me explain how things are."

Reluctantly, knowing he had no logical reason to refuse, Daenar released a tired sigh. "Fine, then. Indulge me."

A nod and another glance around followed, then Fíli spoke in a tone low enough to only reach his ears. "First of all, we do not trust them, most of them, as much as you think we do, despite what appearances might suggest."

Daenar mulled over the new information, then quirked a brow. "Most?"

"Yes," confirmed Fíli. "Most. From what I've observed, both Balin and Thorin know their leader. Balin more so than Thorin. Drerin was a dwarf of Erebor, as you already know, and those are loyal beyond any gold. Add in the fact that him and Balin were apparently good friends back before Smaug, and I'd say we can pretty safely guess that no matter what he thinks about you, he will at least not attack, not over both Thorin and Balin."

That didn't quench Daenar's worries much. "People change, Fíli. He might not be who he used to."

"That is true, and Thorin is aware of that." Fíli's eyes traveled to where their leader sat with Drerin and Balin, Daenar following the gaze. As if by some strange force, Thorin chose that moment to glance their way, too, and upon meeting their eyes, gave them a slight nod before bringing his attention back to his conversation. "In fact, he is, judging by my observations, probably the most skeptical one amongst us. I've watched him nearly bolt out of his skin when you disappeared into the forest before." While Fíli spoke, Daenar's gaze stayed on Thorin, a thousand different thoughts running through his head like a bevy of wild horses. Fíli, on the other hand, watched his concentrated face, a light smile forming on the prince's lips. "He truly worries about you, more than you can ever comprehend."

It took a few heartbeats before Daenar realized his stare went on for too long. His thoughts were blinked away and mouth clamped shut, before he cleared his throat. "Is that so?"

"Mmhm," Fíli hummed, unable to keep the grin out of his face anymore. "You have no idea."

Daenar was too distracted to even try figuring out what that meant. Choosing to simply ignore the comment, he opted to go back to their previous, more important topic. "Is everyone the same on this?"

"What- Oh, you mean, right. Yeah, we are all on guard. Don't worry, we won't let them so much as try anything. Just, please, do me - all of us - a favor."

"And what might that be?" Daenar asked as he watched Fíli stretch his arms above his head.

"Nothing hard, do not worry, just... Stay by Thorin's side at most times. Not that anyone else wouldn't be able to protect you just as well - this is more so for his sake than your safety. I fear his heart might explode otherwise." Leaving no room for more to be said, Fíli jumped to his feet and, with a wink, strode away towards his brother, who seemed to be in the middle of yet another story, flailing his arms around so much it was a wonder he hasn't hit anyone yet.

Taking that as their conversation being over, Daenar processed all the newly received information again, looking around. Sure enough, now that he knew what was going on, all the little but important things became so prominent. Kíli's audience, three members of Drerin's band being amongst them, was purposefully formed into a circle, each mercenary separated by members of the Company. The two others who debated with eachother on the other side of the bonfire, the woman he 'talked' with before being one of them, were on one side being eavesdropped on by Dwalin sitting quietly behind, pretending to be asleep, and on the other by Bofur, Bifur and Bilbo, tending to the kettle with brewing breakfast. Drerin was, meanwhile, occupied by Balin and Thorin, and Nori was nowhere to be seen.

Daenar's gaze yet again lingered on Thorin. After Fíli's words, he did truly notice the little twitches and ticks, stray glances his way, smiles that didn't quite reach the dwarf's eyes. He was more nervous than Daenar has ever seen him be, and he cursed himself internally for not noticing earlier. When Thorin's eyes met his for the third time in the last minute, Daenar summoned a smile, stopping the dwarf from looking away as he returned a, albeit confused, smile of his own. Daenar broke the gaze only for the few seconds he needed to stand up, while Thorin began glancing back and forth between Daenar and Balin, who currently seemed to be talking to him. That was also how Balin noticed his approach, waving him over with a huffed laugh. "Garrett, lad, come sit with us, let me introduce you!"

His smile slipped a bit as he took Drerin's hand, who seemed to share the wariness, but to be fair, only half of his mind was on the exchange. It truly did feel like a big boulder fell from his shoulders when he finally plopped down next to Thorin. The moment Balin began his talk about an event from the past, when Erebor was still full of life, Daenar seized the opportunity to nudge Thorin lightly. "I'm sorry," he whispered without even looking, "and thank you."

No answer came, not even in the form of a nod or hum, but it didn't escape Daenar's notice that Thorin's trembles disappeared, as did the tenseness in his shoulders, and the dwarf looked much more relaxed now. And who knows, perhaps the smile Daenar put on for the conversation afterwards wasn't as fake as he himself thought it would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter one, mainly to quickly get past that cliffhanger at the end of the last chapter. Sorry for that, by the way :/.


	14. Into the Dark We Wander

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**Chapter 14**  
**Into the Dark We Wander  
**

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"Why does he not have a beard?"

Half the time, the path ahead didn't allow for two to walk abreast; sometimes one had to even walk sideways to get through the natural obstacles of Mirkwood. This, however, was one of the rare occasions in which they didn't have to do so. In fact, Daenar would feel safe to say that there was room for a third person to walk with them - aside from Bombur, probably. Nevertheless, he was glad nobody seized the opportunity, and him and Thorin were allowed to converse freely and undisturbed.

"Is he not a dwarf? I thought you lot pride yourself over your mane and facial hair."

Thorin seemed deep in thought, and Daenar wondered whether he was being a source of disturbance, though now that he brought the question up, it would be weird to drop the subject. He was, however, inclined to do so, as the dwarf provided nothing but a murmur of something incoherent in an answer, steel eyes staring ahead dutifully.

"Thorin?"

"Hmm?" Thorin finally brought his gaze to him, only now seeming to realize Daenar spoke. "Ah, forgive me, I wasn't paying attention. What was it that you asked?"

A pang of guilt washed over Daenar, thinking he interrupted Thorin in the middle of some important thought. "Sorry. I didn't mean to disturb-"

"-No, not at all," Thorin was quick to jump in. "It was nothing of importance. Please, go on."

"I just-" he motioned at his own chin, adorned with a beard of his own, a little longer than he was used to as he didn't shave in quite a while. "Drerin, why is he shaved clean?"

"Oh, I thought you knew, or were already told." at Daenar's silence, he continued. "If a dwarf does something... shameful. Something that would deserve a punishment-"

"-No. Sorry, no, I already know that," he interrupted Thorin's speech. "I meant more like, what has he done to deserve punishment?"

"Oh, of course." Their conversation was stopped as an obstacle appeared in their path, which they had to walk around one by one. As soon as Daenar came into step with him again, the dwarf resumed his speech. "Apparently, it is a self-declared punishment. He holds himself responsible for some things that happened during and after the desolation of Smaug. Something about failing the people, the king, running away after Moria and hiding away in shame; utter nonsense, if you ask me, told him as much. Erebor was the fault of nobody but the glitter of gold, and neither was my grandfather's death. Still, he insists."

It would seem Fíli was right, about dwarven loyalty, but more often than not Daenar found this devotion to become almost blind and fanatical over time, so much so they began torturing themselves over things that were clearly beyond their abilities to save or fix. "Hmm. He must truly be convinced he did some wrongs if it's been this long and he still, you know."

"Indeed. As I said though, that is a misjudgement on his side, nothing I could do to convince him otherwise short of offering that he be forgiven if he helps us take Erebor back."

That gave Daenar a pause. "Helps us take Erebor back?" he didn't know whether Thorin's offer to Drerin was genuine or if it was part of the pretending game, too. "Does that mean you trust him, or..."

"I would say so," the dwarf replied. "Balin vouched for him. He doesn't do that very often. And although I haven't spent much time with Drerin back then, I do remember seeing him sometimes doing his duty. He was one of the most loyal dwarves I've had the chance to meet." Daenar let Thorin's words run through his head, but he was soon interrupted again. "However, we should still remain on guard, even around him."

"Well... now I'm confused." Daenar shook his head before releasing an audible sigh. "You go and say you are inclined to trust the dwarf, yet say something directly contradictory the moment after."

"All I'm saying is, your safety is more important than old acquaintances, even if vouched for. My trust doesn't extend that far."

That was... pretty sweet. It brought a smile on his face, anyway, and judging by Thorin's expression, the dwarf had no idea what it was he just implied. "I'm flattered."

Thorin didn't offer any word to his remark. Soon after, they had to split once more, forced to walk in a single file as the path itself narrowed and stayed that way for far longer than usual. Nature grew more grim with each step, trees with twisted branches as black as night weaving together like a chaotic web, leaves the colour of blood mixed with moss of similar hue covering the ground and flowers pale as death protruding through the leaves in some places. The already thin beams of sunlight grew seldom until they ceased altogether and air, already thick and stale before, seemed even denser.

They walked for a long time. Or, it at least felt that way. His head felt heavy, without much breathable air, and there was a tight pain forming in his chest from the lack of oxygen flowing through his respiratory system. Others weren't much better off, wheezes and angry mutters about the only sounds all of them could muster.

But the worst, the worst was this horrible, gnawing feeling of being watched. He found his gaze wander around more often than he would like to admit, finding it to always ultimately fall on Thorin's back. He must keep an eye on things, make sure the now hard-to-see stone of the elven path is always beneath their feet, that they do not lose it amidst the crimson river of moss and leaves.

That soon proved to be a challenge as the world started swimming in front of his eyes; little, gentle swaying soon blooming into a full on rocking, all around him nothing but blurry dots and lines, while his head felt like exploding. It was at an especially bad case of nausea, resulting in him almost tripping over his feet and tumbling to the ground, that he was forced to prop his hand on the nearest tree and close his eyes for just the tiniest moment. "Thorin," rasped his voice, too weak, too fragile.

No answer came. Maybe the dwarf hasn't noticed. Understandable, as it was but a soft mutter, but still, over the dead silence that surrounded them, _someone_ had to have heard-

Panic squeezed his entire being, chill running up his spine and settling in his heart, its rhythmic thud coming to a numbing halt. The silence.

Eyes shot open, doing their best to adjust to the darkness and rocking world. Gone were the wheezes and coughs, gone were the voices of the Company - only his ragged breath and blackness and red and the feeling of something sticky in his hand. He jerked his arm away, it proving to be much harder than anticipated, but all was clear as he inspected what his arm was tangled in. Thin, pearly white threads enveloped his entire forearm, accompanied by a disgusting smell he never before encountered. It mattered not, though, for all answers came as he looked up, into the canopy.

White replaced red, and he made an involuntary step back, as if that could put some distance between him and the spiderweb kingdom that loomed up above, stretching as far as the eye could see, mockingly staring back into his eyes widened with fear. Quickly, too quickly, Daenar looked around in panic, which proved to be a mistake as it nearly sent him falling to the ground, vision still not entirely adjusted, and he didn't think it would ever be. Nevertheless, his looking around at least provided one piece of information, which was that nobody seemed to be present.

Was he lost? Surely, others would have noticed and stopped him from wandering astray. Was he even on the path?

The temperature seemed to have dropped below tolerable levels, so much so his teeth began to chatter. Though, if that was from the crushing fear coiling through his body, or the cold, he couldn't tell.

All of that ceased to matter the moment a low, hissing sound reached his ears, and upon whipping his head in its direction, his eyes met with two red orbs staring at him from not too far away. He couldn't so much as move a muscle under the scrutiny of the giant, black creature, too terrified to do so. A heartbeat later, its mandibles twitched, another hiss sounded, and Daenar barely had time to act as the spider leaped.

 

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First the bounty hunters, then spiders, and now elves. When will it end?

"Do not think I won't kill you, dwarf. It would be my pleasure."

They had no choice but to surrender to those treacherous bastards, weapons confiscated in the blink of an eye. An entire pack of elves sprung from the trees, clad in tunics of muddy green and dark brown, arrows aimed at the small group of dwarves below. He was in the middle of glaring at what seemed to be their leader when Ori's hurried whisper reached his ears. "Nori, I-I can't find them."

"What are you talking about?" snapped back Nori in a hushed tone.

"Bilbo, and- and Garrett, and-" Thorin stiffened as Ori spoke, glare forgotten amidst a flurry of thoughts. "O-one from Drerin's band."

His frantic looking around evoked no reaction from their captors at first, but it didn't take long before the blond elf noticed. A sharp reprimand and a dagger at his neck later, Thorin had no choice but to meet the elf's eyes, failing to quench the burning hatred in his own, which didn't elicit so much as a flinch. "What is it, dwarf. Have you lost something?" Thorin's smoldering gaze betrayed nary a thing.

Perhaps Garrett has managed to hide. Yes, he hid with Bilbo, and-

"My lord," a male elf suddenly appeared by the one holding a dagger to his pulse, giving a small bow and raising his head only when the blond's curt nod bid him to continue. "We have found two more trespassers." Thorin's breath hitched in his throat. "However, one of them shows no signs of life, and the other..."

The entirety of the forest went silent, save for the metallic clank of weapons being thrown into a heap. Tension and anxiety could be felt creeping out of every member of the Company and Drerin's band. Thorin's world shrunk to a single line. Gnawed trees, with their crooked branches and twisted nightmare of roots, appeared to have drawn closer, cackling in mockery. The taunting whisper of their leaves was lost amidst the darker thoughts that invaded Thorin's mind, hands balling into fists by his sides. _It couldn't be..._

Thorin didn't have to look up from the ground, he felt the blond elf's intense gaze directed his way. He couldn't find it in himself to care. _Mahal, please, don't let it be..._ "What is it?" came the blond's voice again. "Speak."

The messenger seemed reluctant to continue, but did so under the command. "He doesn't seem well, my lord."

"Define." the dagger was finally drawn back from Thorin's neck, yet the dwarf remained motionless, as if not even noticing.

"The sickness, dark magic - it looks like it's affecting him far more than it should mere Men." _Men_. Thorin never thought a single word could create such a bright spark of hope. There was, however, no telling whether it was truly Garrett the elf was referring to, or someone from Drerin's group. The rest of the sentence didn't hint at anything bright, either. "He is being taken to our ward as we speak."

There was a moment where nobody spoke. Thorin quickly realized it was because the leader's eyes were trained on him, inspecting, prodding. He then bent down to pick a sword up, and Thorin watched him turn it over in his hands, muttering something in sindarin. "Where did you get this?" Was asked with disdain.

"It was given to me." The lie slipped from his tongue easily, even as he fought to keep his voice even.

It was obviously the wrong thing to say, as the sword was quickly pointed his way, him flinching away slightly. "Not just a thief, but a liar as well," the elf declared, then shouted something in his tongue to the other elves again, to which they turned in a disturbingly well-coordinated fashion and started down the alley, the captured group of travellers pushed along.

It didn't take long before they found themselves behind the entrance to Thranduil's halls, the massive stone gate shutting behind them with a loud and final thud. The place, a huge and spacious cave, would take anyone's breath away with its beauty and elegance, but Thorin wasn't in the mood for sightseeing - nobody was. The question of whether both Bilbo and Garrett were alive and well hung heavy in the crisp air, and not a whisper was exchanged as the group was lead along spiralling stairs carved into stone and wood, dark passages and wide halls, until they reached a forked crossroad. That was where they separated, everyone being pushed down the rightmost path, which Thorin guessed lead to cells, and he himself was pushed up the leftmost path, leading up to an open hall. As they neared it, Thorin inspected the pillars running along the edge of the round room, carved from living rock, before his eyes fell on what he initially thought was a wall, but upon closer inspection he realized to be stairs, soaring high to a throne of thick roots tightly woven together. In that throne sat an elf, posture of utmost regality, a crown of leaves upon his golden hair and sharp blue eyes staring into Thorin's soul.

"Welcome, Thorin, son of Thrain," his voice called, carrying through the vast halls of the cave. Thranduil rose from his throne and started the descent, ignoring Thorin's intense glare, or perhaps he reveled in its anger. "What business do you have in my kingdom?" The question was purposefully dragged out, rolling off the elf's tongue, who by the time of its finish stood directly in front of Thorin, hands clasped behind his back.

No words could describe the disgust with which Thorin stared back.

 

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Like a whip, the harsh wind lashed at his face and tugged on his clothes, its sharp cold fingers grasping and clawing as if in fury. Bidding him to move, to take an additional step, walk further into the nothing through the mud and pools of water, which his feet sunk to with a disgusting wet sound. Despite the uncomfortable wetness gathering in his boots and chill that crawled from the bottom of his body up, Daenar pressed on, trudging through harsh, unforgiving environment; not truly knowing why and without a sense of direction.

The concept of time has been lost on him long ago. He had no recollection of the before - only the exhausting, neverending walk remained. Neither did he find it in himself to care. To his knowledge, there was nothing waiting for him in the waking world, there was no point in trying to crawl his way back.

So he walked. A lone, dark figure clinging to its clothes, huddling them tight around its fragile frame. Not a soul as his company, not a sound other than the howling wind sinking its sharp teeth deep into the stricken face of a  man who has long given up on hope. Hollow in every sense of the word. Through darkness he wandered, the kind that envelops you like a thick fog, whispers sweet and deceitful promises with a tone thin and distant, yet able to shake you to your core. The kind that robs you of your best sense and replaces it with a paralysing fear.

He was no stranger to the sensation. It was like a heavy cloak once taken off, fondly fading from memory only to return with the persistence of an old friend; welcomed back with open arms, for he knew there was no escaping the dark. The world once brimming with colours faded into a chalk drawing, a masterpiece on the easel of the creator, and as the blackness came, Daenar watched and felt himself be erased of the vibrant colours that, once gone, left no evidence of ever even being there.

As a small child, the darkness worried him. His imagination supplied many beasts with fantastical jaws to lurk beyond the range of his vision, the images amplified by tales passed on by elders. That was, until he realized those stories weren't real, told only to scare children away from wandering alone under the light of the moon. As good as the intentions might've been, it left him bitter and distrustful. And as he uncovered the beauty of the night himself, he became accustomed to darkness, embracing it with all its flaws and dangers. After all, for him, the night provided cover; from the flesh and blood monsters of the day, the ones with their swords and bows, the ones who could be a merchant, neighbour, even a member of the family. There was no need to fear the dark, for he knew the monsters he had been warned about resided in the hearts and minds of those delivering said warnings.

He blinked at the sharp light that pierced through the fog so suddenly, head raised together with a hand covering his eyes from both the glare and wind. Pale wooden stairs presented themselves in front of him, leading up into void, the wood bleached and cracked with age - or perhaps its colour might've been whipped away by the everpresent gale. On a short hook jutting out from the very start of the railing, there hung a small lantern, the flame inside flickering weakly yet still, in a place so dark, it shone like a star. The unforgiving wind pressed on the lantern's body, the metallic clank as it collided with wood almost entirely snatched away by said wind's wail. Carefully, gingerly, Daenar took it by the handle and slipped off the hook, then looked up the stairs, unable and uncaring to chase away the urge to follow them.

Like a moth drawn to a flame, he brought one foot up, then another, falling into a perfunctory process, lantern kept in front of him despite its inability to reveal more than the fog surrounding everything allowed. The wooden boards creaked under his weight, like slow, agonized moans of an old dying woman, the sound strangely almost comforting after what felt like eons of nothing but the howl of wind and thump of his own heart.

It didn't take long before he found himself in front of a door made of wood in the same state of wither. As he approached, it creaked ajar, as if expecting his arrival, and a warm, orange light filtered out of the gap. Welcoming. Inviting. His body almost involuntarily stepped closer and pushed the door open, the wind's whistle adding in volume as it found a new space to fill. Quickly, Daenar stepped over the frame and shut the door behind himself, so as to not let its chill smother the warmth inside.

The warmth he took a second to bask in, marveling in the way it trailed over his form, wiggling his fingers and toes to pump blood into their frozen tips again, before finally turning to inspect the place. The single room, with no other doors but the ones he just came in through, was mostly empty, lit by a fireplace in the far left corner, the scorched firewood releasing a crack when his eyes landed on it. In front of the fireplace stood a small pot on a simple stand, seemingly empty save for a wooden spoon or ladle sticking out. Windows with glass decorated by cracks of various shapes and sizes revealed no view, only the clouds of obsidian smoke could be seen, rolling in waves like a death fog, trying to find a breach to crawl through. A small bedside table stood alone by the door, which he placed the lantern on, and there was also a hook on the wall above but he didn't want to part with any of his belongings. The area to the right was mostly empty; a few shelves on the wall - one of which was inclined on one side - filled with books, jars and strange items he did not care to know or guess at; a narrow but long table running along the wall below the bookshelves, seemingly used as storage as well; and lastly, a bed that seemed to have seen better days, a large chest placed at its foot.

In the middle, more to the back, was a wide table that looked carved from a single, huge mass. Two chairs were placed at its side, facing eachother. In one, the chair on the opposite side to him, sat a hunched figure in a robe of ashen brown colour, its hood concealing their face. Only smoky hair could be seen falling down around their neck and over chest, hovering above the table as cards were being placed on top of it, one by one, in an almost agonizingly slow manner. A small candle stood in the very middle of the table, its flame flickering from side to side as if being the object of a game of tug of war.

Without hesitation, he made his way to the table and sat down, eyes never leaving the candle's weak flame. It wasn't until he was sitting that his gaze wandered away, principally to inspect the cards. All were face-down, a strange black intricate design drawn seemingly by hand on the back, though the ink was mostly erased and scratched away already. They were arranged in a zig zag pattern. Not knowing what else to do, nothing strange catching his interest, Daenar's eyes wandered to the person sitting opposite of him, whose old, wrinkled hand hadn't stopped yet, nor had they acknowledged his presence.

"Where am I?"

His voice sounded louder than he expected, even if he knew he spoke in an even tone. It, however, didn't seem to matter, as it didn't prompt so much as a word from the other person, who continued in their task as if noone spoke at all.

"How did I get here?"

There was no point in asking more, only to wait until he received at least a single answer. He sat patiently, wondering whether the hooded figure could even hear him or not, until suddenly a woman's voice, raspy, old and slow, finally spoke. "You are nowhere, yet everywhere." Confused, he was just about to ask her to elaborate when her hand came down again, placing yet another card. Somehow, that mesmerized him enough that the words died on his tongue. It didn't matter, as she continued on her own anyway. "The realm of shadows and light, the world of darkness and magic."

"The Unseen world." his mind supplied quickly, the name leaving him on an unbelieving breath.

Her chuckle would creep dread over many a child. "You would be correct, but not quite." Another card was laid down, Daenar's eyes watching its movement intently. "This place resides on the very edge of the Wraith world, in a corner so dark and behind fog so thick even the dead avoid it."

His eyebrows knitted in confusion. "Then why-"

"-why are you here?" she interrupted, voice rising a pitch by the end of the sentence, though it was brought back down when she continued. "I do not know, neither do I care. You are here, and that is all that matters." With that, the final card was placed down, and she joined her hands below the table.

A loud bang startled Daenar so much he jumped, twisting his upper body in the direction of the sound. With wild eyes and heart beating as if during a race, he searched the left wall for any signs of movement, and squinted through the windows into the vast blackness outside. Nothing. Daenar willed his breath to calm down as he turned back towards the old woman, who he found didn't so much as flinch, sitting patiently in her seat. Without knowing why, Daenar's eyes traveled to the candle in the middle of the table. Its flame still flickered happily, which he found a strange, comforting surety in.

The woman cleared her throat then, successfully grabbing his attention once more. With a noticeable rasp, she spoke a simple request, words rolling off her tongue like ash. "Pick a card."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, although I am using the Wraith/Unseen world for this, and I am trying to keep this story as close to canon and lore as possible, the old woman and her house are entirely figments of my imagination - I do not claim they truly exists in Tolkien's world. Please, bear in mind quite a few things in this fic are going to be this way yet.  
> With that being said, I hope you enjoyed!  
> Also, updates might be slow in the next 2-3 weeks (finals again (◔_◔))


	15. Despair

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**Chapter 15**  
**Despair  
**

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"Some may imagine that a noble quest is at hand." The more Thranduil spoke, the more Thorin felt his skin crawl. "A quest to reclaim a homeland and slay a dragon. I, myself, suspect a more prosaic motive. Attempted burglary, or something of that ilk." A good amount of willpower was spent in an effort to keep his gaze downcast, but it didn't take long before the elf forced their eyes to meet by leaning down to his eye level. Thorin looked up then, but not without summoning as much hatred into his expression as possible. "You have found a way in," Thranduil stated more than asked, the dark emotions swirling in Thorin's eyes going ignored. "You seek that which would bestow upon you the right to rule. The King's jewel, the Arkenstone. It is precious to you beyond measure."

Thorin's heart involuntarily quickened at the mention of the jewel. He couldn't keep his mind from wandering back to the day he had seen it last, set into the throne in the Great Hall, sitting proudly above his grandfather's head. It was a globe with a thousand facets; it shone like silver in the firelight, like water in the sun, like snow under the stars, like rain upon the Moon. It took all light that fell upon it and changed it into ten thousand sparks of white radiance, shot with glints of the rainbow. So beautiful it was he often found his gaze linger, watching the light dance in front of his eyes. Never for long, but enough to fill his heart with a strange but familiar warmth.

With a blink, the vision was gone, and Thranduil's face filtered in again. The elf's smirk told Thorin he knew exactly where his mind took him. "I understand that." With that, the elven king's expression faded back into the serious. "There are gems in the mountain that I, too, desire. White gems, of pure starlight."

Thorin remembered those as well, and had to resist his urge to sneer.

"I offer you my help," continued Thranduil, bowing his head.

The motion was laughable at least. The smirk that appeared on Thorin's face later was not out of willingness to strike a deal, but more so amusement, of how dumb Thranduil thought him to be. The elf in question seemed entirely blind to Thorin's emotions, and he decided to humor the elven king, silently reveling in the charade. "I am listening."

"I will let you go, if you but return what is mine."

"A favor for a favor," Thorin said as he turned, taking a few slow steps away. With his back to Thranduil, he let the smirk widen as he listened to the elf's sleazy words, lies that he would never again fall for.

"You have my word. One king to another."

It took but a moment for the anger in Thorin's heart to come to a simmering boil, red and hot. The game they played came to an end - his anger couldn't be contained any longer. "I would not trust Thranduil, the great king, to honor his word, should the end of all days be upon us!" His words dripping with hate seemed to have shocked Thranduil, if the astounded look on his face, after Thorin whipped around and pointed an accusing finger his way, was anything to go by. He marveled in it for a moment longer than necessary. "You lack all honor! I have seen how you treat your friends." The last word was spat out as if just saying it burned his tongue. "We came to you once, starving, homeless, seeking your help. But you turned your back. You turned away from the suffering of my people and the inferno that destroyed us! Imrid amrâd ursul!"

In the blink of an eye, Thranduil was up in Thorin's face, hissing. "Do not talk to me of dragon fire! I know its wrath and ruin!" There was a moment when Thorin's breath caught, as Thranduil's face twisted in an unconcealed agony, then half of it started to melt away, leaving only bone and sinew. "I have faced the great serpents of the north!" The horrifying image disappeared as the elf backed away once more, by which Thorin regained his composure again, glaring at the elven king who started up the stairs towards his throne. "I warned your grandfather of what his greed would summon. But he would not listen. You are just like him." Thranduil's hand rose, and guards were on either side of Thorin, ready to lead him away to the cells. Thorin thrashed in the hold, but knew that even if he managed to overpower the guards, he couldn't hope to run away, not without a weapon.

It was at that moment Thorin recalled the thing most important. "Wait!" a desperate shout escaped him before he could be dragged too far away to be heard, and Thranduil swiftly motioned for the guards to stop again, bringing them to an immediate halt. With a growl, Thorin yanked his arms out of their hold and turned towards Thranduil, who didn't move from his position, watching him intently. Thorin couldn't believe what he was about to do, but if there was the slightest chance, the smallest ray of hope...

He had to try. He would give up more than the white gems just for a chance.

"Do not waste my time. You have squandered enough already."

"... I might agree to your terms." The spark in Thranduil's eyes was almost enough for Thorin to take back his words. Almost. "Under one more condition."

"You are in no position to make demands," started Thranduil, though his voice was not threatening. _The jewels_ , Thorin realized, _he must truly want them_. Good, that only played into Thorin's hands. "However, you are lucky - I am feeling quite generous today." He came to stand in front of Thorin, staring him down. "I am willing to listen. Speak, before I change my mind."

Thorin's pride didn't allow him to step back, standing his ground as he returned the elf's stare with a craned neck. One of the many reasons he hated elves was their stupid height, one day amongst them was enough to give him a crick in the neck. "One of us was brought to your healers. I want to see him, immediately. You will get my answer then."

Thranduil stood still for a second, then a thin eyebrow rose and the hint of pleasant surprise crossed his features. "Is that all?" was asked, though without enough room given for an answer. "I have to say, I am quite surprised, pleasantly so. I have almost expected... truth be told, I do not know what I was expecting from a dwarf-"

"-I do not care what you think of us," Thorin interrupted, snarling. "But I can assure you it is far off from-"

"-It matters not," Thranduil jumped in this time, palm raised. His face was once again a stone mask. "Very well, I can agree to that arrangement." He then turned to one of the guards and spoke in Sindarin, the guard nodding and turning to walk away. Thranduil motioned for Thorin to follow.

He was lead back the way they came, until they turned down a path that branched off from the main road, into a dark falling tunnel illuminated by small blue orbs of light dancing in his peripheral. He did not care what they were, neither did he expect or want an explanation, curiosity squashed by thoughts of bigger concern. He still did not know for sure that the survivor was Garrett, he had no way to know - but there was a gut feeling, a strange invisible force, murmuring, pushing around in his head. Lulls of assurance that grew louder the closer they were.

Their descend ultimately ended in a spacious, round hall with an open ceiling, which looked like the inside of a tree stump. There, the light filtered in again, but it was still noticeably darker than before. Two rows of beds - which really were just roots twisted tightly together and filled with a bedding of leaves - ran along the walls, separated by a drapery of vines. In the middle of the room stood a tall, lean fountain, around which wrapped a wooden desk with tinctures, bottles and bowls seemingly separated into selected groups placed neatly on top of it. Other than the hum of water, the only sound carrying through the air was a voice, a chant, coming from the direction of the seemingly only occupied bed, drapes closed but light could be seen coming from the inside, casting silhouettes of two elves.

Without a warning, he rushed to the vines blocking his vision and pulled them away, which was met with a 'hey!' from one of the elves, a she-elf holding a bowl of water. However, her shout went ignored, as Thorin only had eyes for the pale figure lying on the leaves, a big boulder falling off his chest. The rejoice in his heart didn't take long, as he more intently took in the man's appearance, noticing just how fragile and white as a bone and just... _dead_ , Garrett appeared. Thorin didn't even know or care how crestfallen he looked as he slowly kneeled down on one side of the bed, eyes never leaving the face of his One.

»»---------------------

Meanwhile, Thranduil followed after Thorin a little slower, feeling every bit like kicking something, or someone. Dwarves always infuriated him. Their spontaneousness and lack of manners were something he could never come to understand, such barbars and cleptomaniacs it filled him with bitterness to have to talk to one of the race, and the line of Durin seemed to be the worst. Maybe that was why it surprised him to be stopped dead by the sight that greeted him upon pulling the drapes aside. He could never guess to see such an expression of open panic on the face of a dwarf, the hard shell of pig-headed pride shattered into million pieces. Least of all Thorin Oakenshield, and to top it off not for a fellow dwarf, but for a member of the race of Men.

When the dwarf's hand reached out to take the man's hand in his own, and Thranduil noticed Thorin's eyes glisten with unshed tears, he was left positively shocked, mouth hanging open a tad. For once, he was the one struck speechless, and it wasn't until a few seconds later he regained his composure and turned to the elf standing by the bed with a bowl of water in hands, who seemed surprised by the display as well. "How is the patient?" he asked, tone brought down so as to not disturb the other she-elf kneeling on the other side of the bed, whose chants hadn't stopped even over the disturbance their arrival caused.

"We are doing everything we can, my lord, but nothing seems to be working," she answered after the moment she needed to grasp her bearings again. Thranduil's eyes never left the face of the dwarf, who seemed to have slumped even lower as the words sank in. "In fact, they've practically brought him in on the brink of death, but Sheanne insists there is a chance. She says..."

Thranduil's eyebrows rose in question. "Continue," he bid her on, noticing the hesitation in her eyes.

"She- she says the man's soul is already in the Halls of Mandos, my lord, but... a part of it still lingers here." His eyes landed on the patient's face now, which was silent and cold, not giving out any signs of life. Like a corpse. "I-I do not understand, but I can assure you she is doing everything that is in her power to help. Unfortunately, I don't think there is much more we can do."

Thranduil hummed in response, hands clasped behind his back and eyes travelling back to Thorin, who was now gripping one of the man's hands in both of his. Trembling became apparent upon closer inspection as well, traveling through the whole of Thorin's body, but despite the visible distress, the voice that came in the next moment bore no sign of waver. "Do everything that can help. Bring him back-"

"-You do not give orders here-"

"-Please..." This time, the dwarf didn't try to hide his fear. Thranduil could only stare back with shock as a crack appeared in the dwarven king's wall of pride, resignation clear in his glassy eyes. "Do this as well, and we have a deal. The White Gems of Lasgalen will be yours, if you let us go... and if you help him."

A long moment of silence fell on everyone present, save for one of the elves' chanting. Even that, however, sounded muffled to Thranduil's ears, as if water flooded the entire room. Almost absentmindedly, he recalled himself turning to the elf still holding the bowl of water and giving orders to help the man on the bed as much as is in their power, to bring in anyone they think might be useful, as well as giving them permission to send a party out for supplies if need be. "As for the dwarf," his eyes fell on Thorin again, who now paid more attention to the corpse of a man in front of him. "He is permitted to stay unless his presence becomes obtrusive. Should that happen, the guards will escort him away."

With that, Thranduil turned on his heels and made to take his leave, looking forward to return to his personal chambers and have a moment of peace to think about the day's events. Before he could do so, though, a passing thought stopped him under the drape, which was being held open for him by one of the guards, and he turned back to the dwarf. "It would seem we both still have a lot to learn about eachother, Thorin, son of Thráin." He didn't know whether the recipient heard him or not, as Thorin gave no sign he did, but Thranduil didn't expect an answer anyway. He half-recalled giving an order on his way back to let the other dwarves out of their cells as well, but it was drowned under the many other thoughts running across his mind.

 

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"Ah, the Tower." Daenar didn't know what to make of the old woman's grave tone, as he stared at the card pinched between his thumb and index finger, brought up to the candle so he could inspect it under more direct light. The scenery depicted on the piece of hardened paper didn't exactly bring flutters of joy. What looked like a sturdy, stone tower was engulfed in flames, the source of destruction being a black dragon seemingly circling around it. Dark clouds rolled above amidst an ablaze sky, mixing with smoke coming from the inferno beneath it and forming into a horrifying sight.

With a grim expression, he put the card into the woman's outstretched hand, who nodded her thanks. The card was placed on the table in front of her - slowly, gently, as if putting a child into its cradle, lulling it to sleep. "What does it mean?"

Several heartbeats passed before an answer came, slow and raspy. "Bad things, I'm afraid." Already somehow used to her rather slow manner of speaking, Daenar gave her enough time to continue, because he knew she would elaborate as soon as she was able. "The card symbolizes a sudden catastrophe, a horrible event yet to take place."

Her speech paused just as another loud thump sounded, this time from above, like a heavy object colliding with the roof. Daenar's startled gaze shot towards the sound, almost jumping out of his skin, but confusion traded any other emotion as what he saw wasn't anything he expected. The scenery that opened in front of him looked as if taken out of a nightmare - he found himself looking at a huge tree set in the middle of a forest, half of it reduced to ash and embers by the black fire enveloping its entire form. A loud crack reached his ears as one of the main branches came loose, separating from the tree and falling to the ground like a burning limb. Clouds of smoke rolled across the reddened sky, casting shadow over the entire land. The rest of the trees were quickly being caught on fire as well, obsidian flames spreading like a plague.

"It is something that cannot be prepared for," the old woman's voice suddenly tore through his mind, and he quickly brought his gaze back down, to where the woman still sat behind the table, staring at him with piercing eyes. Even if the colour in them already faded almost to a pure white, that only added to their spell, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up. "It will shake your entire world. It will leave open wounds, raw and bleeding, fading ever so slowly into scars. Unlike the memories, which will remain embedded in your mind, crystal clear, and no matter what you do, no matter how hard you try, they will remain there, surfacing when you least expect it." She didn't seem to mind the blazing inferno around them; the pained cries of nature; the darkness creeping in, its tails swallowing whatever crossed their path. Her unblinking gaze unnerved him perhaps more than the cataclysm surrounding them.

"There is nothing to be done," the woman unhelpfully supplied, as fire spread towards them hungrily. Daenar found himself unable to move or scream, only to sit more still than a statue, gaze locked with the woman's. "But steel yourself against the horrors that are to come."

He felt the black flames creep up his chair, he saw them lick their way up the table, then all of the sudden, in the blink of an eye, it was all gone. He didn't even know he was holding his breath until his lungs forced him to take in a lungful so as to prevent his brain from shutting down. Meanwhile, the person opposite of him didn't move a finger. "Scars have the strange power to remind us that our past is real," came her voice again, out of the blue. He didn't understand why she said that until a faint touch of a wrinkled finger fell on his nose, specifically on the red mark running over it. That finally brought him out of his frightened state, wincing away from the touch. His reaction only pulled a dry chuckle out of her as she retracted her hand. "The memories that hang heaviest are the easiest to recall. They hold in their creases the ability to change one's life forever. Even when you shake them out, they've left permanent wrinkles in the fabric of your soul. But all bad is good for something. Instead of sinking with the pain, use it, let the past beat inside you like a second heart and shape your perspective so that you come out better, stronger."

In a state of utter perplexity, Daenar could only stare for what felt like minutes, until the shock faded into confusion and confusion into curiosity.

"There is still much you need to learn, child."

At last, his mouth opened and words flew out, though he couldn't keep his voice from shaking just yet. "T-that vision. What- what was it, why... all the destruction, and fire..." He gulped. "Does that mean- does that mean such a thing will... happen?"

To his surprise, she released a chuckle. "No, you do not have to worry. What you saw was but a projection of your mind, your perception of destruction."

"Then... this catastrophe. What is it? How- What should I-" He cut himself off then, anxiously gritting his teeth and feeling absolutely lost, listing through the mess that was his mind and desperately trying to form all of it into words. A second passed with the silence in the room being almost deafening, before it was ultimately given up on, a sigh escaping him instead. "Forgive me, I am probably stepping over the line, asking for such information."

A hum met his words, along with a creak as the woman leaned forward in her chair. "Unfortunately, or perhaps it is for the better, I could not tell you even if I wished to do so, for I do not know exactly what the future has in store. All that is in my power is to read the cards, and explain their meaning. As for the reality..." she paused, and Daenar didn't know whether it was just the trick of the light, or if she truly did suddenly look very tired. But when her eyes met his in the next moment, the strength in them blew that thought away. "You will have to discover for yourself, I'm afraid." Then she leaned back, the movement accompanied by a protest from her chair. "Which brings us to the task at hand. It is time for you to pick another card."

There was reluctance in Daenar's movement as he raised a hand to turn another card. It was nothing surprising after the vision he just had. However, in the end, his eyes landed on a particular card and, albeit slowly, his hand traveled towards it.

"Hmm," came the old woman's hum as the card was handed to her. "As expected, after a Tower."

Daenar didn't spare much time looking over the picture, only the bare minimum needed to make out a floating heart pierced by three swords, above which were dark clouds, source of the heavy downpour in the background. With great anticipation, he waited for the meaning to be revealed to him, hoping for the best, even if his gut was telling him there was no point in getting his hopes up.

"The Three of Swords." She paused, as if pondering over how best to begin. "The symbolism here is pretty opaque, and the emotional effect that it has is immediate. The heart is the seat of warmth, affection and spirit, and the three swords indicate the power to harm, cause pain, and create suffering to what it pierces." The card was carefully placed by the first one, the candle's flame reflecting in her eyes. "The clouds and rain depict the surrounding grimness of the situation. This is an image of grief, loss and literally heartbreak, showing a low point in one's life."

Just as Daenar thought things couldn't get worse, there comes another bad prognosis, stomping his self-esteem to the ground. A long and tired sigh was released, resignation clear in his slumped posture, and Daenar found his half-lidded eyes landing on the candle; gaze tired and weary, devoid of all hope. As he watched the weak flame battle a light draft, suddenly it struck him how similar a human life was to the one of the candle's.

In the beginning, every candle is strong and straight with firm, clean wax and a fresh wick. Magnificent is its flame upon being lit for the first time, chasing darkness away with light pure and strong, unwavering in its watch. How far even the smallest candle throws its beams, reaching to look behind every corner, exploring the world around with unquenchable excitement and bringing joy to everyone caught in its presence. Slowly, its wax starts to melt away, but no mind is paid to this process as the candle is still new and strong, and has its whole life ahead of itself. Over time, depending on how strong the candle is, the candle has to battle the elements around it, such as the impact of the sunlight or the draft caused by an open window or door. If a candle is too weak, or the impact is too strong, the little flame might extinguish too early. As the candle gets older, the wax gets softer, changing shape and colour. It slowly gets smaller and eventually the wick will have a hard time holding the flame. Sometimes a door needs to open just a little to extinguish the candle, and sometimes the wick carries the flame until there is no wax left to burn.

Daenar wondered whether this particular candle was his. He wondered whether its flickering flame was his soul holding onto every single molecule of oxygen in an act of pure desperation, clawing and grasping for existence. He wondered, how easy it would be to blow on it, to extinguish the flame and end its neverending battle.

Amidst such dark thoughts, Daenar suddenly noticed a strange warmth. Paying it no mind at first, he succumbed back into his mind, but then it became stronger, hotter - not uncomfortably so, quite the opposite. It spread from the palm of a single hand, over the knuckles of its fingers, wrapping around its entire form. Confused, he raised it for inspection, but found nothing that could cause such rise in temperature. Almost immediately after came a different thing - a strange chant, in a mildly familiar language. Not loud enough for him to discern what was being said - in fact, it was so quiet he would miss it if not for the absolute silence in the room - but at least he knew where it was coming from; which, he realized, was everywhere.

"Our time is waning, you are being pulled back." said the only other person in the room, answering all of his questions without the need for him to ask.

"Pulled back?" he asked, brows knitted together in confusion. "As in..."

She gave a short nod. "Indeed. Back to the waking world."

Once again, his eyes traveled to the flickering flame between them. _Back to life... huh?_ The warm colours danced in his eyes as he pondered over his response, mouth opening and closing several times before something finally fell out. "What if... what if I don't want to?..." The words rolled off his tongue slowly. Their taste was unfamiliar, like they didn't truly belong to him, as if he was possessed and no longer had control over his body; yet the following blink of heavy eyelids was definitely him. Distinctly, he could hear rattling sounds and heavy knocks start, quiet before but now strengthening. "What if I just..." _want to lie down and rest_ , he thought. _For an hour or two, or perhaps a day_ \- come to think of it, an eternity sounded quite blissful at the moment...

A loud clap brought him back from the trance-like state. With ears ringing, he picked his head up again and found the old woman tucking her hands back under the table, and after a heartbeat, he realized the other sounds were gone as well. "Focus, young man," came a stern voice. "Do not let the darkness find purchase in your mind. It cannot take root unless of your consent." After a heavy gulp and a nod from him, she fell back in her chair, seemingly satisfied for the moment. "This place can keep it at bay to a certain extent, but its tricks have a way to reach unimaginable places, worm its way into weak minds and destroy them from within before their purpose in the world can be fulfilled, which directly leads to chaos." Her head tilted to the side just a tad bit. "Your mind is not weak, it is only you who thinks so, who holds back the potential hidden within. And your destiny is far from over."

He didn't know why anger suddenly boiled to the surface from within. Perhaps it was, indeed, the darkness trying to take control. "You talk so much about- about destiny, but judging by what I've gathered from-" wild hands motioned over the table, one even coming down to slam its fist into the wood. With gritted teeth, he continued. "-Going by what you've told me, my future does not seem very bright. What purpose in the world of living can I have that would make me willingly go back to suffer?"

The old woman sat calmly, letting him finish, then, disregarding all he said, just bid him to pick another card. "Four is the number I thought of the moment you stepped through the door, four cards shall I read. You still have two more to go, do not throw away hope just yet." This calmed him down a bit, and with a sigh, his body released all the tension as well. He felt the exhaustion creep deep into his bones, sapping away all the fight he had left. Still, he did not move to pick a card, just sagged deeper into his seat and dumbly stared ahead. Inside his mind, a real battle was taking place, a battle of emotions which the old woman seemed to have picked up on right away. "You are traveling with a group of people," she started, grabbing his attention once again. "People you came to call friends. This means a lot to you, does it not?"

Daenar frowned, choosing to dodge her question with one of his own. "How do you know that?"

"You hold them very dear to you - tell me, do you not think your feelings are reciprocated? Do you not think that your passing would leave them shook and wretched? That your disappearance would leave a gaping hole of absence in their world, one they would find themselves constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night?" Daenar couldn't force a word out, thoughts flying around in his head a mile a minute. "If you truly don't, then you are right. He who is blind to the emotions of those he holds dear, is as good as dead; his heart is closed." They stared into eachother's eyes as Daenar's mind slowly unraveled. "But I know you do. I know, that you remember."

A single, delicate bead of salty water started its journey down Daenar's cheek, and soon, it was followed by more tears. He did remember. The void swirling inside him before he took off on this journey. Fíli's and Kíli's smiles, the very first day - where everyone was scared and wary, they understood, and believed. They chased away the loneliness and pain, they stayed even when his true face was revealed. He did remember. The way Bombur's eyes shone as he swirled the big chunk of deer meat in the pot, giving him the very first thank you. How Ori's curiosity quickly won over fear and the young dwarf soon joined him and the princes where they sat further from the rest. And with that Balin, Bilbo, and Bofur with Bifur joined as well.

"You can always find a reason to die, no matter how small and pitiful, but something worth living for?" A hard, wrinkled hand landed on his, on the one still giving out so much warmth. "That does not come every day."

Not really knowing why, as he looked at the hand and focused on the warmth, his thoughts wandered to Thorin, more specifically the night the dwarf approached him for the first time. How soaked to the bones they already were as they set up on a quest to find dry wood - that night he would mark as the beginning of his slow untangle of the puzzle that was Thorin Oakenshield; the stoic, prideful dwarf with a distrustful but kind heart. He recalled the time spent in Rivendell, where the Company's trust was tested again, and how surprised their conversation in Elrond's garden left him. Then the two of them went on to spend more time with eachother, and slowly, delicately, he poked holes in the hard shell around the dwarf, revealing the true Thorin hiding behind. And the more he did so, the more captivated he became, but it took him all this time to realize that, with each short huff of laughter pulled out of Thorin's throat, with every newfound expression on his face, with each minute spent conversing over a topic only the two of them could ever find interesting enough to even bring up, there was something deeper and stronger hiding beneath, something yet not wholly unexplored. Something he wanted to explore.

And so, with tears in his eyes, Daenar's hand rose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who wonder what the sentence Thorin said in Khuzdul means,  
> "Imrid amrâd ursul!" - roughly means "May you die in dragon fire!" (literally: "Die a fiery death")


End file.
